


A Job Million PRs Would Die for

by saiansha



Series: Scandalised [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Clint Barton, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, Creepy Loki (Marvel), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Irondad, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki Can Be Sweet, Multi, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, This is a very slow burn that is slower than slow, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony gives nicknames to everyone, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Warning: Loki (Marvel), You Have Been Warned, loki is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 208,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiansha/pseuds/saiansha
Summary: Tony Stark makes you an offer you can't refuse. You really should reconsider, because you will be handling PR for someone who isn't exactly an Avenger. It is a job a million PRs would die for.You might just end up dying for real.(Updates every Friday)Follow this story onTumblr





	1. That Time We Went Networking

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first Loki fanfic and my very first time writing a Reader character. I study PR myself and I have been toying with how it would be like to do PR for everyone's favourite alien Viking god. Like the Reader character here, I too don't have any experience actually being a publicist to any "celebrity", but I wanted to explore what it would be like to do something strategic for a change rather than the usual grunt work us interns get swamped with. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this fic! All mistakes in interpreting the profession and the characters are my own. I welcome any and all constructive criticism and comments! There isn't much Loki in this chapter or the next, since I'm just setting things up, but the ball will get rolling soon.
> 
> PS: This is a very, very _very _slow burn. I am consciously being super conservative with the pacing because I want it to be as realistic as possible. There won't be a kiss till at least 150k words, as of now. Hope you enjoy =)__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life takes very interesting turns sometimes.

One moment, I was fresh out of college. I was attending overpriced networking events in uncomfortable corporate attire to snag an entry level job for which I was overqualified in a half-decent PR agency that would pay peanuts for salary. The next, I was in the Avengers Tower penthouse, sipping a Sidecar, dressed in my fanciest cocktail dress, hobnobbing with none other than the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist Tony Stark.

My shoulder still tingled from when Thor had accidentally brushed against me. I hadn’t even recognised him in his burgundy shirt and dark brown pants until he bent down to make himself audible.

“Forgive me, my lady. It was not my intention to graze you so impudently.”

I had managed to smile and stutter out a, “N-no no worries!” before rushing in the opposite direction.

Presently, Stark was wrapping up a conversation with Mr. Patel, an NBC head honcho and my ticket to this uber-cool soiree, before turning his attention to me.

“So, what’s your story, kid? You escorting this guy around to pay for grad school?” He grinned.

“Beg your pardon?” I spluttered. Mr. Patel, presumably used to Stark’s sense of humour, merely coughed beside me.

“I’m just kidding, kid. You look too refined for Patel here anyway.” He teased. “What’s your name?”

I told him my name, a tad coolly. This was not how I had expected a conversation with the famous Tony Stark to go. Not that I had expected any conversation with him, mind.

“And what do you do?”

I told him I had studied PR and where I had studied.

“How’d you end up as a plus-one to Patel here?”

“She’s best friends with my niece, actually.” Mr. Patel answered for me. “She persuaded her father to introduce my niece to a friend of his, a professor whom she wanted to shadow. As thanks, I have taken this young lady under my wing to help her settle in New York and swing a job at a PR agency. My original plus-one, someone from my team, could not make it to your party, so I asked our friend here if she’d like to come.”

I nodded in confirmation.

Stark turned back to me. He had an oddly appraising look on his face. “So, you’re still looking for a job?"

“Unfortunately.”

“And you’re obviously comfortable with celebrities.” His tone was casual, but there was clearly something the man was driving towards.

“I guess?” I half-asked, half-said.

“No, that wasn’t a question. It was a fact. You are. I’ve been watching you. You seem at ease. Well, at least you haven’t whipped out a pink diary and fluffy pen and asked Capsicle to give you an autograph or asked Thor if you could braid his hair.”

I let out a snort. “Well, I _am_ awed. But, no, I wouldn’t go to _such_ extremes.”

“And you can hold your drink.”

Now, _that_ I wasn’t so sure about. This was my second cocktail. And, even though I’d only been taking little sips, I could already feel it going to my head. On top of that, Stark’s random questioning was making me only more nervous, which prompted me to drink more. That, in turn, made my head fuzzier and increased my nervousness and so on.

“Is he bothering you?” A new voice asked.

I flicked my eyes to the left as a strawberry-blonde woman draped herself over Stark’s arm. Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and possibly the only person who could rule Stark with an iron fist, if you pardoned the pun.

“Pepper!” Mr. Patel declared. “Long time no see!”

“Ramesh!” Pepper trilled, stepping forward to hug Mr. Patel. “Oh, what has it been, three days?” She asked with a twinkle in her eyes. “I cannot thank you enough for that marvelous feature story you did on me and the company!”

“On the contrary, I cannot thank _you_ enough for agreeing to this interview! It has become one of the top most watched segment of our entire network and has already gathered upwards of 50 million views.”

I watched with interest as the CEO, who was the epitome of calm and confidence in public, waved around her hands in embarrassment.

“Oh, come on, Pepper, take credit where it is due.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will. Especially since Tony hardly gives me any.” She remarked drily.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. 12% credit does not do you justice.” Stark said with the air of a man who had repeated this statement countless times already. “What do I need to do to get you to forgive me, damn it?”

“Come to a press conference. Give an interview. Take some of the press around on a tour of the Tower so that they stop fearing that the Avengers are making plans for world domination.” Pepper replied, also speaking with the air of a woman who had been repeating the same line since time immemorial. It must be their relationship trope.

“Do PR, yeah, yeah. Ooh! Speaking of!” Stark swung around, clapped his hands and pointed them at me. Pepper turned around to properly look at me.

“Hi!” Pepper said, brightly. “I’m Pepper!”

“I know!” I said, then remembered I had to introduce myself as well.

“I haven’t seen you around here!”

“That might be because it is my first time here. I’m Mr. Patel’s plus-one.” I smiled.

“Ooh, an intern! How exciting!”

“Actually, she’s his niece’s best friend.” Stark interrupted. “She’s looking for a job, has great education, looks sharp, talks sharp and –”

“ _Tony,_ ” Pepper said, in a warning tone, almost as if she had realised what line of thought he was following. I was intrigued, because certainly, _I_ hadn’t managed to figure out why Stark was showing so much interest in me. Mr. Patel shared my look of confusion.

“What are your credentials, kid?” Stark asked as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“I have interned at 3 PR agencies, one in the UK, one in US and one in France. I speak French. I held a merit scholarship at university and my GPA was 3.93.”

“There! Excellent credentials as well!” He turned to look at Pepper as if he were a proud parent. Why the hell was he so interested in my academic accomplishments?

“Tony, she doesn’t even know what you’re getting her into!” Pepper hissed.

“She will when I tell her. I’m not going to withhold any information from her.”

“Tony, she’s just a child!” Pepper cried.

“Um…” I spoke up, unwilling to be spoken about in third person any longer when I was right there, especially when my age or maturity were under question. “I can legally drink if that’s what you’re worried about.” I added, rather lamely.

“Sweetie,” Pepper turned to me, an oddly maternal look on her face, “I’m not underestimating you. But –"

“ _But_ , no firm or person that is more experienced is ready to take on this case,” Stark butted in, “And I’m thinking we might need a fresh mind for this!”

“ _Exactly!_ She has a _fresh mind_!” Pepper rounded on him, now borderline hysterical. “A mind that has a long way yet to go and shouldn’t be subjected to –”

My drink was long forgotten. It was for the best, for I felt that I could not hold any more liquor as I struggled to follow this bizarre conversation.

“Pepper, Pepper,” Stark soothed, but Pepper batted his hands away. “It’s just an experiment, and whether it works out or not, we all will be there to support her! Look, maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe instead of some jaded hack we need a young, open-minded, social media-savvy woman!”

“Urgh! I give up!” Pepper exclaimed. “Listen,” she added, and now clasped my free hand in both of hers. “You don’t have to agree to _anything_ he says, okay?”

I nodded dumbly. It sounded right. I didn’t really need to agree to anything Stark said. It was another matter that I didn’t even know what I was supposed to agree or not agree to. With a long suffering sigh, Pepper released my hand, patted my shoulder and sashayed away elsewhere without another word to Stark. I looked at Mr. Patel l, silently beseeching him to whirl us away as well. Stark merely pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Kid, do you want a job?” Stark suddenly spoke up, looking me straight in the eye.

 “Of course,” I shrugged, nonchalantly. He scowled at me as if I had said something stupid.

“ _I mean_ ,” He gritted his teeth, “Do you want to do PR for the Avengers?”

I blinked. And then, because I did not know what else to do, I blinked some more. If I had thought that Tony Stark joking about me moonlighting as an escort was unusual and unexpected, then Tony Stark possibly offering a job to a straight-outta-college girl who had barely any full-time work experience at a party at Avengers Tower was even more so.

“What?” I finally managed to squawk. At this point, I was past being articulate.

“The Avengers. You know, the people who are hosting this party and the people whom this tower is named after. The people who saved this very city a while ago. Ring a bell?”

I looked at Mr. Patel in terror. Surely this was some weird, real life variation of “Top 10 Anime Pranks That Went Too Far” that Stark was playing on me. And Mr. Patel was in on it too, which is why I had been added to the guest list so easily. And, anytime now, someone would thrust a camera in my face and yell “Gotcha!”

Mr. Patel did not confirm my suspicions.

“Yes or no, kid?” Stark’s voice snapped me back to attention.

Something in his voice signaled to me how serious he was. That was probably why Pepper was so alarmed; she was right to be wary of hiring a person who had only just graduated a month or so ago to manage such a complex task. Curiously, her disquiet seemed to also stem from some odd but touching concern for my mental wellbeing. Apparently Stark felt she was right to be wary on both counts – though I wasn’t sure why he would be wary about my mental health. Surely I did not look like I was going to have a nervous breakdown any second? Yet, he had insisted on going ahead with the offer anyway.

And so, more out of deference to that seriousness and my damning curiosity than any real understanding of what I was throwing myself into, I replied:

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow this story on [ Tumblr ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178116395072/fic-a-job-a-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-1)


	2. That Time We Went for an Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're back at the Avengers Tower for a hastily-scheduled interview. How willing is Stark to overlook your lack of experience? And exactly what project does he have in mind for you?

I shuffled outside the Starbucks, deliberating between getting my caffeine fix to tide over the exhaustion and listening to the voice of reason saying that the dehydration from the caffeine was going to make my hangover worse. With a sigh of defeat, I stepped inside. Sadly, the enticing aroma of coffee did me absolutely no favours today. I felt the nausea rising in my belly. With anything that resembled, smelled, looked or sounded like coffee out of the menu, I decided on the only thing that could now lift my spirits: a hot chocolate.

I had woken up at 7 a.m. on a Sunday and was currently sipping a hot chocolate to nurse a hangover – and I blamed Tony Stark. After my hasty “yes” to Stark’s question if I wanted to work for him – for the _Avengers_ – he had asked me what I was doing the next morning.

“Sleeping in, I suppose. It’s Sunday.” I had shrugged.

“No you’re not. You’re coming in at 9 a.m. tomorrow and we’re going to chat about my offer.”

“What? Why?” I had asked, aghast.

“Have you never interviewed for a job or internship, kid? Please don’t tell me you’re new to even that!”

“Of course I have!" I cried, indignantly. "I just meant, why tomorrow?”

“Oh. Well, I like to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.” And before I could ask anything further, he patted my shoulder. “Nice chatting, kid. See you tomorrow. Patel,” he added and gave the man a finger salute before sauntering off.

I had had to remind myself that I was no longer in university, where I could wake up at 10:30 a.m. three days of the week to stroll in for an 11 a.m class. This was real life and real life apparently meant coming in for an interview at 9 a.m. on a Sunday. I had felt more reconciled to the idea after I had downed a couple more drinks, which brought me back to the predicament today.

I finished the hot chocolate, primped myself one last time, grabbed my folder and marched out. With an uneasy feeling that was from more than just the hangover and exhaustion, I approached the entrance. Avengers Tower had looked welcoming and exciting last night; now, it just looked sterile and imposing. The top of the atrium itself reached a couple of floors high. There were walkways on either side that looked over the large circular reception desk. The atrium was flanked by a wall of frosted glass bearing the Avengers’ insignia. The water flowing down the glass cut pleasantly through the beeping pagers, clacking heels and muffled conversations, and I felt my spirits lifting a bit.

“Hi, I have a 9 a.m. with Mr. Stark,” I gave one of the unoccupied receptionists my details.

She stared at her screen for a minute. “It is for the job interview, right?”

“Yeah.”

The woman picked up the telephone and asked facilities to send someone over to escort me. While we waited, she printed a visitors card with my name and photo and instructed me to wear it. Soon enough, a man in a dark suit walked up to me. He told me to follow him and led me inside an elevator. He held his ID against a pad and pressed a button and off we were, rising up to what was definitely going to be an intense experience. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. _It’s going to be fine_ , I told myself. Worst case, I flunk the interview and Tony Stark forgets my name (if he even remembers it still). Best case… well, I dared not give in to the desperate hope that something as fantastical and sudden as this could come to fruition.

Sooner than I could have guessed, the elevator dinged and I opened my eyes. Confusion flitted across my mind as I realised that we were not in some conference room but at the penthouse level. The man from facilities – or an agent of SHIELD – must have sensed my hesitation, for he said, “Through there, miss.”

“Thank you,” I replied, shakily and moved to exit.

“Good luck.”

I nodded stiffly as I walked ahead. It was difficult reconciling the scene of the quiet living room before me with the buzzing one from last night.

“Ah, there you are!” A voice came from my right and I snapped my head around. “Thought you had copped out and decided to sleep in. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did, I can’t imagine why I told you to come at this time of the day.”

Stark was shuffling about a huge open island kitchen, dressed in workout clothes and drinking some eerie green concoction. He was not alone; at the counter sat two women, looking unenthused but not miffed about being summoned to work on the weekend. Were they SHIELD agents? Was I going to be vetted? I had never even scored a parking ticket but I hoped they were not going to grill me about my browser history.

I took in a deep breath and slipped into my confident PR alter-ego. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” I began as I approached the trio. “Thank you so much for asking me to be here. I know it must not be often that you ask people in person if they would like to work for you.”

“’Tony’ is fine.” He waved. “Have a seat!”

I awkwardly settled myself into one of the bar stools and rested my folder containing my resumes and portfolio on the counter.

“This,” He began, pointing to the woman to the right, “Is Sarah Shaw, from HR.” Sarah gave me a polite smile. “And this,” he gestured towards the other woman, “Is Stella Lee. Stella is the head of our PR team.”

I could feel my heart drop down my stomach. _Of course_ he already had a full-fledged PR team, packed with people who had no less than at least 5 years of experience! Had I really been so drunk and hungover that I had not even wondered how the Avengers had been managing their PR so far? 

Stella beamed at me and extended her hand. “Hi, how are you? It is always nice to meet the people whom Tony has cherry-picked himself!”

“I think I still have an interview to go through before I can claim to be cherry-picked by Mr. Sta – I mean, Tony.” I smiled and shook her hand.

“Kid, do you want any breakfast? I hope you ate before coming here. But, we do have some bagels, if you like.” Tony asked as he plonked himself between the two women.

I had only been able to stomach some yoghurt in the morning. I was hungry, but I did not want to eat in front of my interviewers and answer questions with food in my mouth. I also did not want to risk throwing up in front of them should my stomach still be playing up.

“No, thank you very much.”

“What about coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“So, dear,” Stella began. “What interests you about PR?”

I opened my folder as I gathered my thoughts. I handed each of them a copy of my resume and passed along my writing portfolio. “I have always been fascinated by the power of words. A few well-chosen words can accomplish something monumental. Conversely, a few ill-chosen words could destroy years of good work and reputation. That is why I am interested in PR, because I want to be able to use words to capture imagination, influence people and shape opinion.”

“And why do you want to do PR for the Avengers?”

I huffed internally. First, it was not my idea to apply for the job and second, why the hell not? Neither of those reasons were going to sound half as clever as they did in my mind, however, so I mulled over the question.

“I want to do PR for the Avengers because they are subjected to a lot of scrutiny. Every day, someone writes or speaks about them in a new angle. The more they get written or spoken about, the more chances there are to build or damage their reputation. The latter is especially crucial, because no matter how much good the team can do, there will always be voices of criticism and opposition. We can’t let all the cynicism – valid or invalid – detract from the good they do. And we can’t be complacent enough to say that their actions will speak for themselves. The Avengers need help not just getting their side across, but also reassuring people that despite their uncommon lives, they cherish very common things.”

Stella and Sarah were nodding silently, while Stark was tapping his index finger against his cheek. I wondered if I had overdone it.

“Did you rehearse that?” Stark asked at last. The question was cynical, but the way he asked it was not.

I shrugged. “Of course. No one goes to an interview without asking themselves why they want to work for that company.” I was proud that my inebriation had not stopped me from at least putting myself in the headspace of an interview.

“Very direct.” Sarah tilted her head.

“I try to be.” I said.

“Good,” Tony agreed, “But in our line of work we can’t always hope to be fully direct. Can you deal with ambiguity?”

I pursed my lips. I had never taken a class on PR ethics and I was wondering if that would have helped me prepare a response. “PRs deal with ambiguity every day. I understand and support not revealing every single detail to the public. The need for complete or partial honesty depends on the context. But, I will not be dishonest or deceptive.”

“What if we asked you to?” Tony interrogated. I was beginning to hate how his gaze pierced into me.

“I hope you won’t.”

“But what if we do?”

“I don’t think you will.” I mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

“I…” I began, my gaze flitting about helplessly. Stella and Sarah were being no help. I looked upwards, scrunching my eyes, praying to whatever god that existed to help me out. “You just don’t seem like that sort of a person. You wouldn’t be an Avenger if you wanted to operate that way.”

“Kid, we’re not exactly the Twelve Apostles here,” Tony began, “But I suppose you’re right. You say that I don’t ‘seem like that sort of a person’. Would you say you can figure out people quickly?”

“I’m not really a behavioural psychologist,” I said, “But, I can work out who is going to be useful and who is going to be cooperative. I can work out whom I’m not going to get along with, for sure.” I joked weakly.

“Oh, you don’t need to be an expert to figure out who exactly you’re going to dislike,” Stark muttered under his breath. I frowned, clueless about what he meant. Before I could follow up, Stella interrupted.

“So what areas of PR interest you?”

“I have studied community relations, crisis communications and non-profit PR. I have a lot of hands-on experience in corporate communications. Most of that has involved media relations, but I did a benchmarking exercise for the CMO of a pharmaceutical company once.”

“What sort of benchmarking?”

“Our PR agency was in charge of doing an image rebranding of the CMO. We conducted some interviews with his team members to find out his strengths and weaknesses as a communicator. I was responsible for finding common sentiments among the team members and jotting down opportunities for the CMO.”

The three of them exchanged a knowing look and I fidgeted yet again in my seat. I was fast becoming tired of being kept in the dark for whatever Tony wanted out of me. At this point I would not have been upset if I had made a slip-up as long as they told me what it was that I had done, or not done.

“How well do you handle yourself in a crisis?” Sarah asked.

I managed to mask my look of irritation with one of polite interest. “If you are asking about how well I perform crisis communications, then I would not know. I have only studied about the process and while I am aware of the fundamentals, I would by no means call myself an expert. Otherwise, however, I do manage myself well in a crisis. Yes, I get stressed easily but I keep my head and work through the situation to the best of my ability.”

Sarah nodded at me. There were a few moments of silence during which three of them poured over my resume, cover letter and portfolio. Then, Stella turned to Tony and nodded. He clapped his hands softly and turned back to look at me. I was wondering if I should break the silence, when thankfully Stella spoke up.

“Do you have any questions for us?”

I had prepared a bunch of intelligent questions. I could have asked about what it was like to do PR for the Avengers on a daily basis. I could have asked them what sorts of challenges I would face at work. I could have asked them to describe their PR efforts in the aftermath of that freaky event in London.

But, my curiosity was consuming me and my irritation was only adding fuel to the fire. So, I asked, “Is this standard procedure for you guys? I know that a lot of PRs get jobs due to networking. But, I doubt the owner and former CEO of Stark Industries jumps at the chance to rope in a complete rookie he met at his party, especially when he already has a highly experienced, well-oiled PR team.”

“Sarah, note down her details, please. I’ll let you know the final verdict.” Tony piped up suddenly. “Stella, thanks for your help. I’m sorry I dragged you both here today, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Sarah and Stella nodded at me and without anything more concrete than a simple ‘have a nice day’, they made their way to the elevator. I looked around in ever rising bafflement. Was I dismissed? How badly had I fucked up?

“Kid, I know you have a lot of questions. You seem like a very questioning sort. And I promise I’ll answer your questions. But first, I need you to sign something.”

It was then that I noticed that Sarah had left behind two sheets of paper on the slab: non-disclosure forms.

I raised an eyebrow. “A non-disclosure for an interview?”

“I’m about to tell you something highly confidential.”

He stared at me impassively, waiting for me to look over the documents. Having no other option, I began skimming through the form. It was a standard non-disclosure, nothing extraordinary, but still enough to whoop my ass to infinity and beyond should I ever utter anything beyond the fact that I had gone for an interview to Avengers Tower. Of course, that was not going to stop me from telling my mother every little detail about today. I had sent her a text saying I had an interview lined up for today, but little else. My hungover self hadn’t been interested in explaining to my mother how I had secured an interview with Tony Stark, especially when I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

I signed the forms and pushed them towards Tony.

“There, I’ll keep this and you keep that,” He pushed back one of the forms towards me. I filed it away in my folder and clasped my hands expectantly. 

“What will you do if a conflict broke out right now? Life or death situation.” Tony asked.

Was this a trick question? Was I supposed to show how courageous and selfless I was? Were these prerequisites for working for the Avengers? “I really haven’t given it much thought.”

“Give it some thought, then.”

“I guess I’ll hide away and leave you to deal with it. I’ll try to escape if I think I can and try to alert whoever is around to what’s happening. 

“What if there was another attack in New York?”

I could feel the headache returning. “You said you would answer my questions after I signed the non-disclosure.” I said, rather petulantly.

“I did; I just didn’t specify _exactly_ when.” Tony grinned.

I barely managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Mr. Stark, with all due respect, I thank you for your time, but if I haven’t performed as well as you had expected me to, please just –” I began, but I was interrupted by two people bickering.

“I’m telling you, Nat –” A man was drawling. The two figures came to an abrupt halt at the kitchen. Before I could think about how silly I was going to look, I jumped to attention. Before me stood Agent Romanov and Agent Barton, colloquially known as the Black Widow and Hawkeye. Thankfully, I didn’t actually stomp my foot and salute, but that was my only saving grace. I had seen Agent Romanov at the party and she had looked just as imposing and unwilling to suffer fools as she looked right now. I had not seen Agent Barton; then again, the man was known for perching himself up high away.

“Oh, hey, Bonnie and Clyde!” Tony greeted. “Hey, Bruce.” 

Agent Romanov looked back and gave the newly arrived Dr. Banner a warm smile. Dr. Banner nodded affably at the rest and gave me an uncertain smile before slinking away elsewhere.

“Who’s the new meat?” Agent Barton asked, biting into an apple.

“This is our new PR. For our… _guest._ ” Tony spat out the word as if merely uttering it had caused his tongue to burn.

“Oh, boy, here we go again.” Agent Romanov rolled her eyes and walked past Tony to raid the fridge.

“Tony, I wouldn’t leave an entire squad of SHIELD agents around him for more than five minutes, and you want to subject this poor girl to him for eight hours a day?” Agent Barton said.

“She’ll be fine! We have fully restrained his magic, as you’ve heard Thor say many times.”

“Yeah, or that’s what he wants us to think,” Agent Barton muttered under his breath.

“And if something goes wrong – which it won’t, but on the off-chance it does – we will all be here and Bruce will, of course, Hulk-smash him to Asgard come.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Agent Barton said and sidled up to Agent Romanov, seemingly having given up.

Before I could open my mouth to ask a question – or scream it, for that matter – Tony interrupted, “I know you don’t have much experience in image and reputation management, but would you like to take that on?”

I blinked. I had been expecting more sidestepping, more dodging of questions and more random lines of questioning, but this was pleasantly direct. “For the Avengers?”

Tony took in a deep breath. “For Loki of Asgard.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Loki in this chapter either, but our favourite resident mischief-manager will make an appearance next chapter for sure. Leave a kudos or a comment if you like! Follow this story on [ Tumblr ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178156707942/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-2)


	3. That Time We Negotiated Our Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You refuse to accept that Loki, would-be-conqueror of Earth, is back in the city where he started his reign of terror. But, fear not, for the God of Mischief is here to show you otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this is the PR's first meeting with Loki! I'm not really sure about this chapter, but I did have fun writing it. Hope you guys like it too! Follow this story on [ Tumblr! ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178260251162/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-3)

_I had been expecting more sidestepping, more dodging of questions and more random lines of questioning, but this was pleasantly direct. “For the Avengers?”_

_Tony took in a deep breath. “For Loki of Asgard.”_

* * *

  

For a few seconds, all I could do was gawk at him. Tony Stark had a seriously fucked up idea of a prank. Asking me if I wanted a job at his party, commanding me to land up for an interview for the said job on a Sunday, spending half the time asking me random questions about my moral integrity and now…

My frustration finally won over. “Mr. Stark, do you really intend to offer me a job or not?”

“I just offered you one.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Image and reputation management for Loki of Asgard? _That’s_ the job? You know, if you don’t like me, you can just say no and save us both the breath and time!”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“ _Because,_ ” I spluttered, now so riled up that I had difficulty forming sentences. I paused and inhaled before trying again. “Do you really expect me to believe you want me to work for the guy you took down for trying to take over the world?”

“Yep!”

“What do you take me for? An idiot?” I was practically screeching now. I was past caring that raising your voice in an interview at your prospective employer was a terrible idea.

“He’s not lying.” Agent Romanov turned around and spoke. “Loki is here now.”

“Loki is here?” I repeated dumbly.

“Yup. He crashes our place now.” Said Agent Barton, whose displeasure seems to have only deepened.

“What do you mean ‘he’s here’?” I repeated.

“Exactly what it says on the tin, kid.” Tony crossed his arms. “Loki of Asgard, would-be conqueror of planet Earth, is back in NYC, living right here, right now, in the Avengers Tower. Only this time, we’re hoping he talks about being a goth emo on WNYC rather than sermonise a crowd of terrified people after plucking out an old dude’s eye. That's where you come in.”

I finally registered that Loki was _here._ He was somewhere very, very close to me. We were breathing in the same ventilated air and taking in the same sunlight. And probably last night too he had been here, lurking maybe not one or two floors away from me.

“ _Loki is here?!?!”_ I shrieked and I could feel the fight-or-flight response kicking in. I stood looking around like a goldfish, desperately hoping this was the prank to end it all. Knowing my luck, however, I had a feeling it wasn't. And that's what made the situation so terrifying, because I had signed up to show up for an interview, not to show up for my death. I had become completely oblivious to anything else around me, for I noticed neither Tony stiffening and standing upright nor the two Agents making furious gestures to somewhere behind me.

“Indeed, he is _right here._ ”

A voice spoke up from right behind me. I turned around slowly, my entire body suddenly going rigid. I could feel the goosebumps erupting, but I was bewildered why my body was reacting so strongly. There stood a man uncomfortably close to me, leaning down, his head hovering next to where mine had been a moment ago. He pulled his head back and straightened himself leisurely, not unlike a snake coiling itself up to strike. I tilted my neck up to see the man’s face. My eyes kept darting all over his face, unable to put together his features and piece what he looked like.

All I could make out was that he was smiling, not very nicely.

“Is there something you wish to say to my face, mortal?” He said. If the title he addressed me with was not an indicator enough, his voice and his imperious drawl certainly were.

_Loki. Of Asgard._

I screamed.

It was a long, shrill scream of nothing but pure horror. I jumped high in the air and landed three feet away from him. My feet came alive of their own accord and made me jump again, this time on to the counter of the island kitchen. I kicked away two of the bar stools as I kept screaming just as loudly, albeit in shorter bursts. My body was still trying to put more distance and my butt was almost at the edge of the counter. I would have toppled over, were it not for two arms that kept me upright.

Loki chuckled and stared at me with sheer malice in his eyes.  “I was wondering where all the shrieking was coming from. It seems as if I have found the source.”

He took a step towards me and my struggling renewed. His smile turned into a leer as his eyes left mine and moved slowly downwards towards my skirt-clad legs that were spread wide apart. I tried moving them closer, the cold in my body now being accented by the flush of embarrassment, but to no avail. I still hadn’t recovered all my faculties yet.

Tony stepped forward in between us. I didn’t know if he was protecting my life or my modesty, but his gesture was welcome either way.

“Alright, that’s enough, Reindeer Games. Go back to your room and play with your puppets.”

Loki didn’t try to move around Tony, nor did he take a step back. The Agents behind me stiffened further, ready to drag Loki out of the kitchen if he did not cooperate.

“Ah, you brought me a new servant.” Loki cocked his head to look at me. I tried to stop myself from letting out a whimper, but I wasn’t sure how successful I was. “You are a more generous host than I gave you credit for, Stark.”

“Okay, she is not your servant and if you do anything to treat her like one, I will make sure you are chained up like the criminal you are.”

“Careful, now,” Loki began, evil mischief creeping into his voice, “Or the wench might end up wetting herself from excitement.”

I made a strangled noise from the back of my throat – whether it was one of protest, embarrassment, anger, or some combination thereof, I did not know. It didn’t matter anyway, since Loki’s eyes only lit up further and the corners of his lips turned upwards.

Stark groaned. “What are you, king of ‘Innuendom’?”

"You truly think you are up to the task of handling me, girl?" Loki ignored him and asked me. This time, I definitely whimpered, for Loki looked very pleased with himself. "Or has Stark here kept you in the dark about what you are supposed to do? Judging by your reaction, I would say the latter. Stark does love his secrets."

“If you have nothing better to do, just get out, man.” Agent Barton grunted.

“Oh, I just thought I would acquaint my new servant with her master. She should be thanking me on her bended knee for granting her the opportunity to serve me.”

I was near tears now – not just from fright but also frustration.

"And she does look _thrilled._ " Loki beamed at me. I turned my face away, almost trying to bury it in one of the Agents' chests.

“Loki, enough.” Agent Romanov warned. “Don’t make me get Thor to use you as a weapon rack for Mjolnir.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed at the Agent and for a second I found it in myself to be more worried for her than myself. The moment soon passed, for Loki once again turned to look at me. His eyes were calmer now and his tone was civil and pleasant. Frankly, that bothered me more than his outright manic display of wickedness.

“Once you are fed up with the babysitting, sweetling, I will show you what the grown-up world is like.” He said.

“Loki, out!” Tony snarled.

Loki relaxed and took a step back. “I will go back to my ‘puppets’ now, Stark, but I do so look forward to playing with a new toy.” He declaimed and began prowling out in the direction from which the Agents and Dr. Banner had entered. He maintained eye contact with me with every step he took towards the exit, till at last, he was gone.

My breath left my lungs shakily and I slumped back further in the Agents’ arms. Thankfully, I had recovered enough by now to be able to cross my ankles together. Tony made his way towards me with a defeated sigh.

“Kid, I am so, so sorry about that.” He said. His sincerity warmed me and I nodded weakly.

“Here,” Agent Romanov helped me down and settled me into the bar stool where Tony had been sitting earlier. She let go of the rest of my body but kept a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Agent Barton appeared in front of me with a glass of water.

“Drink up. You’ll feel better, I promise.” I took the glass and drained it hastily.

“Are you feeling better?” Agent Romanov asked me, kindly. “Do you need us to call someone? We can take you back to your place, if you wish.”

“I’m fine,” I sighed. Everything made sense now – Pepper Potts' protests and concern for my mental health, Stark’s line of questioning that I had thought to be completely random, the non-disclosure agreement he had made me sign.

“Listen, kid, I think we should drop the matter for now. Let’s talk some other day, okay?” Tony rearranged the bar stools and plonked himself in front of me.

I shook my head. He must have interpreted this as I not wanting to talk to him.

“Kid…”

“I mean, we can speak now.” I amended.

Tony grimaced. “I really don’t think…"

“Can we please just get this over with?” I asked, absolutely done with the day.

Tony looked at me searchingly before deciding that I was indeed calm enough to speak with again. “As I was saying, I want someone to manage –”

“Stark,” Agent Romanov began, warningly.

“Let me finish, Nat.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want someone to help us manage ‘His Highness’’ image and reputation. But I will not stand for you being traumatised like so.”

“I am not traumatised.” I gulped. “Not really.”

“Hey,” Agent Romanov began comfortingly. “It’s okay if you are, because we all are, too.”

I smiled softly at her. “Thank you, but I am not traumatised as much as I am just shocked. Sure, he _is_ terrifying, but he has always been more of a distant figure for me. A figure I saw in videos and read about in news reports. The idea of him is downright scary, but it is not as if he has personally affected me. Neither I nor my family were in New York during the attack, thank god. It’s just… it’s just that it’s not easy seeing an idea like him in flesh. And it’s all been really overwhelming. Meeting all you figures of legend last night and then realising that it’s not just the heroes who are camping here...” I smiled sheepishly.

“I don’t blame you,” Agent Barton said. “I’m a guy with a bow and arrow and heck, sometimes I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”

I looked away into the distance. The sole benefit of being so scared that I had jumped on to the counter was that my headache and nausea had finally dissipated. The ceiling-to-floor windows were quite a way away from me, but I could still appreciate the view of the skyline from here. I was almost at peace.

“So, kid, what do you think?”

I thought for a moment. “Why are you even asking me? You have an excellent PR team of your own already that is already more equipped at dealing with supervillain tantrums than I ever could be,” I scoffed.

“They have enough work to do for the rest of us and frankly, Loki is as much work as all of us combined, if not more.”

“Then, hire a publicist from outside, or rope in an agency.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at me, as if questioning if I really believed that he hadn’t thought of that already. “I tried. But a, no agency or publicist wants to tarnish their own professional and personal reputation to deal with his and b, whichever publicist that did sign up quit almost immediately after.”

“The longest one lasted for 3 months.” Agent Barton supplied.

“Why is he roaming scot-free anyway?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he be in prison somewhere?”

Tony scowled. “His father, the King of Asgard, decided that a more suitable punishment for Loki would be to live his life shackled up on the planet he had tried to take over. There was no place more secure than with us here. And then, long story short, he helped Thor sort out the mess in London and apparently saved the entire universe and Thor’s girlfriend along the way. Another long story short, Thor convinced _most_ of us that his brother deserved a second chance. And so here we are, trying to reign in the Reindeer, hoping we can get him to work with us on our missions. If he were to join our missions, he would become visible in the public eye. Like you said, we get a lot of scrutiny. So, it would really help if people could learn to tolerate his presence, if not welcome him into their homes willingly. That’s where you come in.”

I let his words sink in. “Why me?” I asked after a pause.

Tony shrugged. “You were in the right place in the right time. I have been looking for a PR for Loki for a while. And, you did pretty well in your interview.”

I nodded in thanks for his compliment. It didn’t make me feel as exhilarated as I had thought it would. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for this,” I admitted.

“I’m not expecting you to work a miracle, kid. Nor am I expecting you to even come close to one. Honestly, it’s just an experiment. If it’s not going to work after all this time, then fine. I’m not even sure if bringing Loki along on our missions is a good idea in the first place. But I want to be sure I’ve exhausted all my options before giving up.”

“What if I fail? What if I get nothing done?” I never thought I would be asking this at an interview. But, in my defense, no interview handbook covered what questions to ask when you were unwittingly interviewing for managing a former supervillain’s public image.

Tony shrugged again. “As long as it’s not for lack of trying on your part, I’m okay with it. I’m not going to just cut you loose, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ll always be able to put on your resume that you worked for the Avengers. I’ll be more than happy to secure you your next job and cover the costs for your therapy sessions.” He joked weakly. "And hey, I doubt anyone has devised a strategy for managing communications for an alien villain. Others may have had more experience with day-to-day communications. But, I really don’t think you’re at a disadvantage here. Like I said, no one has done this before. Maybe that’s exactly what we need – a fresh approach and someone who intuitively gets social media.” He added.

I nodded.

“You’ll want to know the benefits, I presume?”

I nodded again, but the benefits of the job were the last thing interesting me right now.

“$70k a year in pay, full insurance. You’ll get an apartment here in the Tower. VIP access to all my parties, state-of-the-art gym and fitness classes, constant supply of coffee and tasty snacks, 20 days paid leave, not including sick days or official holidays. You can work out the rest with HR. Oh, and of course, the honour of my company.”

“That’s hardly a bribe,” Agent Romanov quipped.

“You’re right; it’s the hard cold facts." Tony grinned. "So, kid, what’s it going to be? Or, do you need more time to decide?”

Tony Stark was not known as one of the best people to work for without a reason. He was offering me almost $20k more than what most of my peers were earning at the entry level and a sweet, sweet amount of paid leave. Even more astonishingly, he was offering me an apartment right here in the Tower. I could keep my entire salary, minus taxes, all for myself. No rent to pay for the foreseeable future! And, if I went beyond the shallow stuff and thought about it – how many people in the world could say they work for the Avengers? Sure, there are people who work in the Tower, but how many people could say they work directly for literal superheroes?

But, was I up to the task? I did not want to jump into something only to disappoint.

Tony must have cottoned on to my inner monologue, for he supplied, “I trust you, kid. And I’m not just going to throw you into the deep end. You will be working on your own mostly but you will receive all the training and help you need from Stella and you will be a part of her team.”

I was going to not just work for the Avengers, but also be mentored by some of the sharpest minds in the industry. So what if I was going to be attached to the would-be conqueror of this planet? If Loki had won, I probably would have ended up in his thrall anyway. _This,_ may be thralldom as well, but it brought nifty benefits. So what if he made my skin crawl? An opportunity like this was never going to strike again. And, if Tony was true to his word – as I knew he would be – I would have free therapy if I needed it.

There was no other answer to give, really.

“Yes.”

“Well," Agent Barton began, unsurely. "Welcome to the madhouse, buddy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos help me wake up in the morning, but comments bring me to life. I'd love to read what you guys think about the story so far :3


	4. That Time Our Client Briefed Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to introduce yourself properly to your client. Of course, Loki wouldn't be the God of Mischief if he didn't find an innovative way to brief you about your project. Follow this story on [ Tumblr! ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178392835672/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-4)

Today was the day. _Today was the day. Today was the day!!!!_ I kept chanting in my mind.

The pep-talk was not working.

I was trying to enthuse myself I was only making myself more petrified. Today was the day I was supposed to introduce myself to my ‘client’, Loki of Asgard. I scoffed at how far-fetched it sounded to call a god-tier supervillain something as mundane and corporate as ‘my client’.

It was the Monday a week after my rollercoaster of an interview. I had spent the whole of last week negotiating my contract with HR – there was very little negotiation, strictly speaking; the contract was overly generous. There were countless non-disclosure agreements and other legal forms to sign – and _boy_ were they long and thorough. My favourite part, however, was settling into my apartment here in the Tower and getting to know Stella and her team. There were nine of them. Stella was the head and the chief spokesperson. Clara was the deputy head and second spokesperson. Samantha looked after digital media, Leslie managed media relations, John did investor relations, Anna handled crisis communications, Roisin did event management and Morgan dabbled in creating multimedia. Linden and Elise managed internal communications. The Avengers’ in-house PR team was bigger than some agencies’ entire staff.

As I had expected, each of them had upwards of seven-years’ experience in the industry. None of them was sure what to make of me. They were warm and welcoming enough, but they kept shifting from being casual, to being worried about how well I’d be able to do the job, to sympathising about all the suffering that lay ahead of me. Stella had made me join the team meetings and spend an hour each day with two or three members of the team to learn about their specialisations throughout the week. Clara had sat down with me and tested my writing skills – anything from memos to invitations and news releases. Whenever she had found something lacking, she had made me redo the entire thing till she was satisfied. They were willing to help and pull me into their tight-knit group and that made all the difference. They had given me pep talks and crash courses on alien psychology they had picked up on the go. They had also minced no words in telling me just how often I was going to come crying to them for help.

I had a faint suspicion that they were all betting on how soon I was going to quit.

Presently, I gave myself a one-over in the mirror. A bottle-green high-necked top – I was playing off the fact that green was his favourite colour. Dark brown trousers – I was _not_ wearing a skirt again. Though I doubted that anything was going to mitigate his first impression of me squealing like a pig for slaughter as I spread my legs wide open, I knew for a fact that wearing a skirt would only bring back the topic. Black shoes with sensible heels and hair pulled back into a high ponytail gave me a slight illusion of height. Nothing fancy with makeup – the last thing I wanted to do was to give him the impression I was dolling up for him.

Shivering with mingled excitement and terror, I stepped into the elevator. Most people descended into hell; I was ascending up to it. The first few floors I kept reminding myself: introduce yourself, tell him what you are there for, ask him if he has any specific goals in mind, engage him in conversation, leave. Keep it short and sweet. The next few floors I had to stop myself from hyperventilating and pushing the emergency button. The last few floors I reminded myself about the hefty salary and benefits I was getting. Then the elevator doors opened and my legs began walking me down the corridor on their own accord. That was good, because my brain had short-circuited and I couldn’t summon any control over my muscles anymore.

The Asgardian brothers had this floor all to themselves. It was probably because no one other than Thor wanted to be in vaguely close proximity to Loki. Speaking of Thor, I made a note to make acquaintance with him as well. I had been given long personnel files on Loki, containing everything from transcripts of conversations and personal history to physical capabilities and personality analyses. All the personality analyses were biased to the point of borderline hostility. While I personally wholeheartedly agreed with them, as Loki’s PR I needed to find his more redeemable qualities as well. And, who better an advocate for the devil than the god Thor himself?

I turned around a corner and there loomed a convoy of SHIELD agents lined up in front of a heavy-duty door at the end. I gulped. Sweat was now probably staining my clothes now. I wanted to raise my arms and sniff to check if the scent of the deo still lingered. But, there was no way to do it without looking like a complete idiot in front of all these agents. Hesitantly, I put one foot in front of the other. I was half-expecting all of them to tackle me on to the floor and Taser me at best, shoot me to death at worst, but they ignored me. Only when I reached the end of the corridor did one agent stop me.

“ID?” He asked, curtly.

With shaking fingers, I dislodged my ID from my hip and held it out to him for inspection. He took it from me and tapped it against a metal pad. Static filtered through his ear-piece and he gave me an another command, “Place your hand on the scanner and look ahead.”

I mentally kicked myself for thinking that I was just going to breeze through the doors and exclaim a cheerful ‘good morning.’ _Of course_ there was going to be a full airport-style check. More static came through, but finally the man handed me back my ID, pressed some numbers into the keypad and allowed me through the door. At least I hadn’t been strip-searched. At this point I was grateful for all mercies, however small, because I knew things were just about to get worse.

I was expecting a sterile room with a low bed, a rackety chair, a small cupboard and a window with a fake view.

What I had not been expecting was a luxurious apartment with sunlight streaming from straight ahead. The entire back wall was made of only glass and while the view was obstructed by the buildings in the front, it was still an excellent vantage point to gaze down into the city below. The white couch and adjoining armchairs were so pristine and plush that I felt guilty about even wanting to sit on them. The only colour in the living room came from the numerous modern art paintings that hung off the walls to the side. It was not a furbished prison cell; it was a well-appointed apartment properly divided into separate rooms.

The part of me that was not petrified about confronting Loki had the audacity to be upset that I didn’t get to live here. I was itching to explore the entirety of the apartment, but I didn’t need to have an iota of common sense to know that would be a bad idea. Neither did I want to come across as rude and invasive, nor did I want to be turned into a toad. I decided to wait for Loki to make his appearance. Tony had told me that he had informed Loki that I was going to be dropping in. It was 9:30 a.m. sharp and I wasn’t sure where gods stood on the notion of punctuality.

“Don’t let him intimidate you, okay?” Tony had briefed me.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that.” I had groaned.

“It’s not. He took you by surprise, it’s natural. You should’ve seen my face when I saw a wormhole open up in the sky and metal lizards came zipping through. And remember, you work for me, not him. Make him eat any shit he doles out to you.”

A snigger made its way past my lips as I envisioned what the last piece of advice would look like literally.

“Mr. Loki?” I called out, softly. There was no reply. I tried again, louder this time, but the result was the same.

I hopped about on one foot. I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was going to flaunt his feathers; his attitude the first day had made that clear enough. I ran different simulations of our meeting in my mind. None of them ended to my liking, but at least they didn’t end with me humiliated, or worse, fired.

The clock on the wall showed it was quarter-to now. Impatience was creeping in. My fingers clenched around thin air, craving my phone for my social media fix. I had to leave my phone outside; it was a security procedure. Anything that Loki could use to compromise the Tower’s – or the planet’s – safety had to be left outside. Hesitantly, I sat lightly on the couch. Then, with a groan of pleasure after I felt how soft and comfortable it was, I settled into it fully. Prince of Asgard or not, Loki didn’t deserve such nice things, especially if he was going to be so unpunctual. I wondered how he had managed to cut such a nice deal. Was it that he was a hard bargainer? Or was this another embodiment of Tony Stark’s generosity? More likely, it was the former.

I looked at the clock again; it was almost ten now. With a huff, I got up, going against my survival instincts and deciding to check his room.

I knocked softly at first, then louder. “Mr. Loki?” Again, no reply.

I opened the door inch-by-inch, as if opening it too quickly would mean signing my death warrant. The bedroom, just as obscenely plush as the living room, was empty. I retraced my steps and crossed the living room, this time headed towards the dining room and kitchen. I entered without a preamble and as expected, there was no one there. Grumbling, I stormed through the living room towards the exit, having been left with no option but to go snitch on Loki to Tony. I had almost reached the security camera and was going to yell up at whoever was watching to let me out, when I felt two hands seize me.

One hand wrapped itself around my mouth, snuffling my cry of surprise. The other wrapped itself around the back of my neck, the arm constricting my wind pipe.

“Off so soon to sing tales, little bird?” A silky voice drafted down to my ear.

My body tensed up more, if that was even possible. My mind froze, but I latched on to the small part of my brain that was replaying and fast-forwarding through all the self-defense I had picked up. I knew it was futile, not to mention a terribly _bad_ idea, but freedom was only a few steps away and I had to try. So, I sagged against his arm, dipped down and tried to pull his groin with my hand.

As I had expected, but had not been ready to accept, my efforts counted for fuck all.

In retaliation, Loki dug his knee into the small of my back, pushing my lower body forward. His arm around my neck pulled me further back into him. The contortion act he pushed me into succeeded in choking me further. My hands clawed desperately at his arm and as a last resort, I grabbed the fleshy part of his hand over my mouth to twist it outwards, but of course, it was all useless. I lifted my foot and brought it down hard on his other knee. I cried in pain as I made contact; it felt as if I had slammed my foot down on a slab of marble. I was already exhausted, but his breathing hadn’t even changed.

“Let me go!” I screamed against his hand, but my voice came out garbled.

He laughed in my ear and rested his chin on the top of my head. “Look at you, squirming and wriggling like a little worm.”

“Urgh!” I yelled so loud that the sound broke past his palm.

Loki chuckled again. Finally, he relaxed the arm against my throat, sliding it downwards to trap my arms against my sides instead. The other hand still remained on my mouth.

“Are you not happy that your god is introducing himself to you so thoroughly, my servant?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing away the tears of frustration. _I will not cry in front of him._ I had no way of fetching help and no way of defending myself against the man who had tried to take over the world, mind-controlled people, and tortured and killed innocents barely any time ago. My self-defense classes had amounted to jack all. In all fairness, however, the instructor had never anticipated that I would be going up against a Norse god from space.

I was all alone and this was probably the last day of my life. What a sad way to go.

“I know you are fond of screaming,” He gloated, as his hand hovered barely an inch above my leg, skimming up and down but never actually touching. _Bastard_. He wanted me to know he remembered the whole fiasco with the skirt. “But if you scream now, I will bring out the knives and trust me, you will not like that.” Suddenly, he dropped his hand from my mouth and let me go.

I whipped around, eyes blazing, chest heaving. The feeling of oxygen flooding back into my lungs was exhilarating. My mouth had opened to scream – whether at him or at the camera to rescue me, I know not. He stared me down till I realised that the sick bastard was going to make good on his threat and slowly closed my mouth. His face relaxed.

“I’m not your servant!” I snarled. It was the first thing that came to my mind.

He cocked his head. “You come dressed in my colours and like the others before you, you are paid to serve me and handle my affairs. Is this not what a servant does?”

 _Bastard!_ He was misinterpreting my choice of clothing.

“I do not serve you.”

“No? Then do you serve Stark?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, before I realised what I had admitted. He grinned at me and I wanted to scratch that grin off his face. “I mean, no! I work for him.

“So does a servant for her master.”

“Yes, but I get paid.”

“I never said you are a slave.” His grin only became wider.

“Yeurgh!” I growled.

His eyebrows shot up in warning and I bit my tongue.

“What is wrong with you?” I spat.

“Only the fact that you are in my chambers without invitation or permission.” He clasped his hands behind his back, all evidence of glee wiped from his face.

“I am supposed to be here.” _You asshole_ , I added in my head.

“Pray, tell me, why are you _supposed_ to be here?"

“Mr. Stark –” I began.

“I do not care what Stark dictates. Begone.”

“You are here because of his generosity!” I snapped, surprising myself. I didn't feel any deep loyalty towards Tony yet, but I was getting fed up with this asshole’s attitude. My frustration was giving me some dangerous levels of bravado.

His eyes narrowed and suddenly, he prowled towards me. I stepped back hurriedly but he was right in front of me in one smooth step.

“And, _you_ are here at my mercy, worm.” He snarled, as he held my head up with a hand on the back of my neck.

I blinked, thrown off by his proximity. He was so tall and that was only making things worse.

“Are you not?” He repeated, his fingers digging into my skin not painfully, but not gently either.

“Yes.” I hissed.

“Yes what?” He leaned down closer.

I did not know what I hated more – his constant invasion of my personal space or his attitude and personality.

“Yes, Mr. Loki.” I gritted out.

He chuckled. “Oh, I like that. But that is not the term of address I was looking for, little one.”

I scowled at him. Clearly, he was not going to let me go till I threw myself into his fucked up game. “Yes, _sir._ ”

His eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face. “Why, how charming. I have rarely been called ‘sir’ before. I like that too, but I do prefer ‘sire’.”

I wanted to lash out that he didn’t deserve to be addressed as ‘sire’ because neither were we in some perverted roleplay nor was he a king who deserved to be addressed so. Even in my current state of agitation, however, I knew that that was going to be an idea way worse than pulling his groin and stomping on his knee.

So, I settled on: “Well in 21st century Earth, we say ‘sir’. No one uses ‘sire’, not even for the royalty.”

The smile widened. “Oh, but you still address your royalty, as emasculated as they have become now, as ‘Your Majesty’. Go on, then. Show me that you understand that I am the king.”

The temptation to scream 'you are not a king' was rising, but I resisted. “You ask for too much.” I hissed.

He laughed softly. “It is hardly too much in exchange for your worthless little life.”

A chill ran down my spine at his words. I willed myself to remain calm and choose my words carefully. “You won’t kill me. Tony won’t let you get away with it.”

“No,” He agreed, “But you will still be dead at the end of it, won’t you?”

I barely succeeded in stopping a whimper escape my lips. Still, Loki must have felt the vibrations in my throat.

“If you kill me, you’ll be stuck here inside the Tower forever.” I wished my confidence in my words was as great as the confidence in my tone.

"Oh, you naive little worm." He smiled, as if he was replaying a private joke in his mind. "You have no idea about the real reason I am here."

"I know exactly why you're here." I blurted before I could stop myself.

His eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Oh, really? Do share."

I licked my lips and closed my eyes, kicking myself from burying a deeper hole. Loki wasn't even going to wait for me to actually die before he tossed me into it; he was already on his way to burying me alive.

"Tell me," He commanded, his voice a mere whisper. His fingers tightened around my neck and I could feel myself hovering an inch above the ground. My eyes flew open.

"You're here because of Thor!"

"Is that all?" His tone was disappointed. He lowered me back to the ground, but did not move his hand. "A lowly servant who cleans the room could have told you that. You think you are well-informed, but you are as dull and obtuse as the rest of the mortals here. I will be out of here long before you think and your _precious_ Thor will gladly escort me back with all the pomp and splendour due to me." He spat.

I had to get out. He was mad and full of menace and he was drawing me into crazy mind-games I had no intent of participating in. "Fine. But Tony will still make your stay here very uncomfortable if anything were to happen to me."

Loki stared at me for a while. I was relieved to see the manic glint disappearing from his eyes. Finally, he sighed and shook his head, as if he felt sorrowful about something. “You are right. Killing you will be ill-advised, but I can still make your life very inconvenient.”

My neck was beginning to ache, my spirits were dropping to an all-time low and this evil alien showed no signs of letting me go. I groaned. “Please.”

The perverse happiness flooded back into his face. “Please what?”

“Loki, please.”

“Oh,” He drawled, and there was a cruel glint in his eye. His hand tightened on my neck, his grip downright painful now. “So, it is ‘Loki’ now?”

“Please, sir,” I begged. “Please.”

He stared down at me for a few moments longer, before laughing loudly and letting me go. “You are dismissed.” He walked back towards the couch and lowered himself regally on to it, his arms akimbo on the back and his head thrown back languidly.

I stared at him in confusion.

“I –”

“You may leave.” He sighed, but there was no mistaking the steel in his voice. Still, he didn’t look particularly miffed. His face was expressionless, but his body was relaxed.

“I… I wanted…” I licked my lips, my heart pounding. “I wanted to introduce myself.”

I waited for him to say something, or dismiss me or come charging towards me again, but he didn’t even give an indication that he had heard me. I hopped on one foot, then the other, my nervousness growing. Everything cell in my body was begging me to flee. There was no change in his body language. Were it not for that the very notion was ridiculous and that his breathing indicated otherwise, I would have thought he had fallen asleep. Then, I realised he was toying with me. He didn’t care what or if I spoke; he just wanted to see my reaction.

“I am your new PR. I mean, your new public relations officer.” I added, not sure if he knew what PR, or even public relations, meant. “My name is –”

“I know who and what you are.” He said, in a bored tone.

I stared at him, unsure how he knew my name. Had Tony had told him?

“I read it on the visitor card you were wearing last week.” His head came back up and he rolled his eyes, as if astonished by my dullness.

“Oh.” I said, lamely. His resourcefulness unsettled me.

“I know what Stark wants you to do. I have watched your predecessors’ efforts to ‘rebrand’ me with amusement, but I am bored with the charade now. I will not intercede you, but I will not help you either. Do as you will. I know you too will fail.” His stare was sharp, but at least it was without malice or wicked glee. “And for the Norns’ sake, do not expect me to do anything for you. I am under no obligation to be kind or even civil to you.

“Okay.” I said, quietly. The words didn’t make me feel any better, but at least they were direct and honest and not delivered at my expense.

“You will address me as ‘sir’. And you will bring me a beverage of my preference every day at ten in the morning. You will not enter my chambers a second before ten.”

“Fine.” I shrugged. It wasn’t unheard of for clients to treat their publicists as makeshift personal secretaries. “What do you like drinking?”

“Well, that is for you to find out, is it not?” He beamed at me. He waited for the look of indignation to cross my face, then added, “I will say that it has what you mortals call ‘coffee.’”

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “Fine. But you have to be here at ten sharp. Unlike today.”

He arched his eyebrow at me. “Are you giving me orders?"

"No!" I exclaimed, horrified.

"No, _what_?" He hissed.

I cursed myself for forgetting to add the 'sir' again. "No, sir."

He relaxed again.

"But, please, we need to be more punctual. Sir." I hated how deferring I had become in the span of minutes.

"Oh, that was just a little taste of your own medicine.”

“What?”

“I was expecting you to enter my service last week. If you can be a week late, why can I not be half-an-hour late?”

I gaped at him, too tired to do anything else. “You’re impossible.”

“I am very possible, my little worm.” He chortled. “Now, get out.”

I did as I was commanded this time. I walked to the door, picked up the phone and asked the agent behind the camera to let me out. I wondered if they had seen Loki and my altercation. Very likely, they had, and I wondered bitterly why they hadn’t intervened earlier. I swept straight down the corridor, up the elevator and to the PR team’s office suite. I made a beeline for my chair, not caring about anyone or anything else. I dropped into the chair, slammed my elbows on the desk and rested my head in my shaking hands, catatonic and trembling all over.

A headache roared into life and it was all I could do to not whimper in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter and I'm really excited to share this. Thank you all so much for the support you've shown to this story so far! From now on, the chapters will be posted less frequently because I have run out of a backlog of chapters to upload. That being said, your kudos and especially your comments will encourage me to write and post each chapter sooner! Let me know what you guys thought!


	5. That Time We Rejected an Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Thor decide how to punish Loki. You would rather not have anything to do with it, but like most things in your new job, it's not up to you. Follow this story on [ Tumblr! ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178582754122/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-5)

Tony was furious.

After figuring out the reason behind my catatonia, Stella had hauled me into Tony’s office. Her grip on me wasn’t brusque, but the last thing I wanted right now was for anyone to touch me, however gently. I wasn’t able to voice my discomfort or shrug her off and I was too tired to dread or anticipate Tony’s reaction. From whatever I had seen so far, he was going to be dramatic and vehement. The only thing I was sure about was that I did not want to be dragged into the inevitable confrontation. Still, I knew there was no other way this situation could have played out; being physically assaulted by a resident Norse god needed to go above HR. Unfortunately for me, Tony was going to get carried away because Loki had – yet again – hurt his ego by hurting his employee. Also unfortunately for me, Loki was only going to file away whatever Tony did to him to pay me back in kind.

After checking in with his secretary that he was alone and not in a meeting, Stella had barged into Tony’s office. Like most rooms in the Tower meant for the use of Avengers and/or high-ranking employees, the office was nothing short of spectacular. There was also a mezzanine of sorts within the office, equipped with a bar and an armour stand. Either Tony Stark knew his mind damn well, or he had hired an interior designer who had succeeded in translating the man’s unconventionality into physical space.

“Oh, hey, Scandal!” Tony had perked up as we had entered. As soon as he had seen Stella’s pinched face and my limp form, however, his grin had vanished and he had straightened up.

“Tell me.” He had said, grimly.

After we had sat down and I had finally – after a few orders and pleas – begun to spin the yarn, Tony’s face had become grimmer with every passing second. However, when I had finally got to the part where Loki had grabbed me from behind and choked me, I had started crying, and that was what had broken his precariously-held composure.

“He _what?”_ Tony’s voice had sounded like a whip.

I had hastily kept narrating, not wanting to stop now that the words and tears had started coming out. By the time I had finished, the composure had come back.

“I’m going to kill him.” He decided. He curled his fist, presumably in anger, but as pieces of metal jetted in from the mezzanine, I realised he was summoning his armour.

“Tony, no!” Stella and I yelled, for different reasons. She clearly did not want murder on her list of crises to handle and I was worried Loki was going to take out on me whatever he suffered at Tony's hands. We looked at each other, panicked, and ran after our boss. Not trusting the elevator to come quickly enough, we took the stairs.

“Why isn’t anyone sounding an alarm?” I asked, between huffs and puffs.

“They’re used to Tony gearing up and flying down to the kitchenette on the same floor just to fetch coffee!” Stella replied. She was surprisingly not out of breath; she must be used to running after the Avengers on a bi-weekly basis. By the time we finally reached the penthouse floors, we were doubled over and too late.

The floor was in disarray. Some of the SHIELD agents were on the floor, some of them were running about like headless chickens and some were shouting commands on their walkie-talkies. Stella walked through the chaos towards the flung-open doors with I in her wake.

“Ma’am! You need to stay away!” One agent hastily came up to her.

“Listen, son, I need to stop my client from murdering his prisoner.” She said, bluntly.

Either Stella was truly a woman not to be messed with, or her desperation had made her unwilling to stand down. Either way, I was impressed; I didn’t think I would have had it in me to oppose a highly-armed, highly-trained SHIELD agent.

“Ma’am, I cannot let you enter a combat zone.”

She snorted in a distinctly un-Stella-like fashion. “It’s not a combat zone, it’s Iron Man pummeling a defenseless man. Let me through!”

Clearly, the man was going to be a problem. Or, he would have been, had it not been for a booming voice that rang over the din.

“What in Valhalla is going on here?”

_Thor_.

I knew Thor was one hundred percent a good guy. Still, I felt coy about meeting the brother of the man who had physically and mentally harassed me barely an hour ago. Then again, he was our best chance to claw through the mass of agents and stop Tony and Loki from starting another Battle of New York. He marched over to the two of us, looking at our faces for an explanation. He was even taller than Loki; it was disconcerting.

“What happened, my ladies?”

I might have swooned if it were not for the situation at hand.

“No time to explain. Tony is on a rampage against Loki.” Stella replied and began walking up to the door. With Thor by her side, dwarfing everyone with his height and musculature, and face contorting from thunderous rage, no one dared to stop us.

“Stark!” Thor bellowed and began swinging his hammer impossibly fast. In the blink of an eye, he was horizontal in the air, surging towards the door.

It was impressive.

Stella looked back at me and shrugged. “The entire team’s MO is being extra.” She said, as we broke into a run and practically slid into the room.

Gone was the pristine apartment from an hour ago; now, there were ripped cushions with their feathers scattered, a smashed centre table, askew sofas and a collapsed painting. Besides the painting lay a doubled-over, groaning Loki. In the middle of the room stood Tony, the optics of his mask glinting and his hand outstretched, gearing up to fire another blast. Before he could, however, Thor’s hammer ripped through the air and hit Tony straight in the back. Tony went flying again, this time without intending to, and landed precariously close to the glass wall.

“What is the meaning of this, Stark?” Thor growled, as he prowled over to Tony, picked him up and slammed him against the glass for good measure.

“Why don’t you ask your precious, prodigal brother, Point Break?” Even though his expression was hidden, I could envision Tony rolling his eyes. “Actually, don’t. He’s just going to lie his way through this like he has through everything else.”

“You dare question my brother’s change of heart _again_?” If the ambience hadn’t been so tense, I would have snorted at how cheesy the line was.

“That is implying that he has a heart,” Tony muttered.

“If the two of you are done discussing my organs or lack thereof –” Loki began. I glanced over at him, not having dared to do so earlier. While he didn’t look injured, it wasn’t as if Tony’s blows had gently tickled him either; he was in some pain. _Good_ , I thought, spitefully.

“Shut up, Loki!” “Brother, enough.” Came the replies.

Confident that Tony was in more of a mood to talk than attack now, Thor let him go and took a step back.

“Is it normal for Midgardians to harass guests to whom they’ve pledged meat, mead and protection?” Thor asked, exasperated, as if he had had asked this question a million times before.

“Is it normal for Asgardians to harass the people who work for me?” Tony barked.

“What?” Thor frowned. He turned slowly towards Loki, his rage building up again. “Brother?” He rumbled.

“Don’t ask him,” Tony cut in. “Ask _her_.” He nodded to behind Thor.

The god of thunder turned around to look at Stella. Then, when he saw Stella looking at me, he swiveled around to face me, confusion seeping into his face.

“Oh, god,” I spluttered, in distress. This was _precisely_ the situation I had not wanted to get into, especially in front of the man – _god_ – who was responsible in the first place.

“Which one?” Loki piped up from the side. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Zip it, Marilyn Manson.” Tony said.

I couldn’t help it; despite my discomfort and misery, I chortled at Tony’s new moniker for Loki.

That may have been the effect he was looking for, for he said, “See, kid? It’s okay. I got your back. Tell Thor what Loki did.”

I tried hard to not look at Loki, but failed. I had expected his face to be contorted into a smirk or his eyes narrowed in warning, but I was surprised to see the neutral expression on his face. In some ways, that bothered me even more, because it was his unpredictability that was his greatest asset.

“Forgive me, my lady, but we have not been introduced yet.” Thor smiled, in an effort to help me along.

“Oh, we have.” I said, like a fool. Thor frowned, trying to remember. “Er, you bumped into me slightly at Tony’s party last Saturday.” I offered, again, like a fool.

“Oh, yes, of course!” He affirmed, but no one was tricked into thinking that he knew what he was talking about. Then, he added, “I apologise unreservedly for my actions, my lady.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” I gushed. “You apologised already.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I mentally smacked my forehead.

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“If you two are done being polite,” Tony interrupted, “Can you get on with it, kid?”

I had a suspicion he was interrupting less to cut off our conversation and more to get to punishing Loki quicker. “Yeah, I’m his new PR.”

“Oh, _Norns,_ ” Thor groaned. Clearly, he too had been privy to the exercise of redefining Loki’s public image and the occupational hazards it involved.

“No, no, no,” Tony chimed in. “You gotta listen to the next part. Out with it, kid.”

“Yeah…” I wrung my hands, eyeing them as if they were the most interesting things in the world. “I entered his apartment today to introduce myself. I was waiting for a long time but he wasn’t there. I decided to leave, but before I could, he grabbed me from behind and choked me. He let me go after I promised not to scream. Then he grabbed me again… And yeah… he let me go.” I finished, lamely. I really wasn’t keen to give another blow-by-blow account of my torture, especially in front of my torturer. I dared to glance at Loki; he looked slightly amused with my vapid retelling. Tony, on the other hand, looked a little disappointed with the lack of detail, but it was enough for Thor.

“ _Loki!”_ He bellowed and stomped to where his brother was now sitting cross-legged. He wrapped one hand around his neck and lifted him a foot high in the air.

“Oh, my god!” I screamed. Stella and Tony remained mute, presumably used to the Asgardians’ version of weightlifting. It must have been a cultural thing to seize people by their throats.

“All this time and you have still not learned your lesson!” Thor roared.

I was surprised to see Loki not flay his legs or make any attempt to get out of the grasp. While he did not look comfortable, he didn’t look like he was in discomfort either. To my annoyance, he even had a smile on his face.

“I would argue for the opposite, brother. Whereas once I would have simply killed the mortal and not have given her a second thought, now, I let her go. She can still walk and, sadly, talk. She is also free to do whatever work she pleases."

“Oh, thanks for giving her the permission to do her work!” Tony said, sarcastically. “Really, that was all she was lacking.”

“You abuse Stark’s hospitality.” Thor went on. “Worse, you abuse your freedom. Mother taught you to be better than this!”

“Don’t drag mother into everything!” Loki snarled. Apparently, Thor had touched a nerve.

“Do you think she would be proud of you? Do you think she would be happy you are back to not respecting mortals and mortal lives?”

“I saved your Jane Foster, did I not?”

“So, you just stop after having saved one mortal?”

“What do you want me to do? Gather them into my arms and wet nurse them?”

“I am asking you to treat them with respect! It is nothing that you are not capable of and nothing that goes beyond your duty!”

“It is not my duty!”

“It will be! Eventually! And you will do as you ought to do or else –”

“Else what? Will you go –”

“Okay, that’s enough, Macbeth and Macduff,” Tony interjected. I had lost all track of what direction the conversation had taken, but my lips twitched at the reference. Tony's wit never ceased to surprise me. “As fascinating as it sounds, I don’t particularly care for this Asgardian soap opera at the moment. I need you to bring your brother to heel, not start an angsty drama, Thor.”

Thor was breathing heavily. Finally, he let Loki go but gave him no space to escape. “Loki, apologise to the lady.”

“Excuse me,” Tony chimed in. “But, she deserves more than a petty ‘sorry!’”

“Um…” I trailed off, getting increasingly worried about my survival prospects. I doubted Loki had ever apologised to _anyone_ , leave alone a mortal. Forcing him to apologise to me was only guaranteeing gruesome reprisals the next day.

“Fear not, Stark, my lady. I assure you, this is the best way to punish Loki for his misdemeanours.”

Tony nodded, having warmed up disconcertingly quickly to the idea. “Say sorry.”

My panic increased. I looked towards Stella in the hope that she would give me a clue on what to do but she was glaring at Tony. I looked at Loki and I was alarmed at what I saw: he looked livid. It wasn’t the righteous anger of Tony or the thundering rage of Thor; it was icy fury. It didn’t matter if he had saved the universe and Thor’s girlfriend – right now, he was the god who felt that he was being disrespected.

“Does ‘the lady’ wish for me to apologise?” He asked, to no one in particular while looking at Thor. His face was paler than usual, the features pinched, his tone even.

“No!” I exclaimed. Everyone, except Loki, turned to look at me. “There’s no need. Please.”

“Kid, you don’t have to go easy on him. In fact, you _shouldn’t_ go easy on him.”

I took in a shuddering breath, trying to get my heart to beat at a normal rate. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was diagnosed with heart arrhythmia at the end of all this. “It’s fine, really.”

“No, it’s not. I won’t let him mistreat you or anyone else on my watch.”

I was trying to slip into a more ‘professional’ mode, but the more I tried to calm myself, the more I seemed to be failing. “Mr. Stark, please. I’m not denying it was bad and wrong and distressing, but it’s over now. I’m guessing this is the first time something this extreme has happened, right?” I hoped I was right, for Tony’s sake. It wouldn’t reflect well on him if he had sent me in without even a word of warning about all the manhandling that was going to follow.

“Yes, but –”

“So, let’s just give him the benefit of doubt, okay?” In my mind, there was no doubt. Loki was a highly unpredictable and dangerous neurotic asshole with psychopathic tendencies and anger management issues. But, neither did I want to complicate things further on my first day, nor did I want to antagonise him so much that I had to quit my job anytime in the near future.

“You don’t need to do that!” Tony insisted.

“I’m his PR; I have to,” I shrugged, almost apologetically. None of this was fair to any of us and to my chagrin, my words sounded like a burgeoning Stockholm Syndrome. “Look, if I’m to do my job, I want him to cooperate with me. Forcing him to apologise is not going to help with that. Even if he did apologise, I don’t think he would mean it. And, he did say that he wouldn’t intercede my efforts. So, I guess that’s something.”

“If he has threatened you –”

“No!” I exclaimed, then calmed a little. “No, he hasn’t. He has just asked me to bring him coffee.”

Tony and Thor looked incredulously between me and Loki, but neither of us met their gaze. Fortunately, they didn’t comment on it.

“I just want to do my job, guys. And you have your own stuff to do, too.” I said.

Silence hung in the room for a few minutes. Then, Tony sighed heavily. “Okay, kid. Just this once. But if he does anything, _anything_ whatsoever, I want you to tell me everything. Your safety is more important than dealing with his tantrums. Oh, and,” He turned to glare at Loki, “I don’t care if Thor hangs around, trying to defend you, but if you so much as try to prick her finger with a spindle or even look at her funny, I will give ‘Asgard’ a whole new meaning.

While he did not exactly understand the linguistic nuances of the threat, Thor nodded. “And I promise I will not stand in your way, Stark, if Loki does anything to harm his PR again.”

“Right!” Tony nodded. “Come along, kid! Let’s get you some ice cream! You deserve a treat after this.”

The fact my ordeal was finally over gave me more happiness than the promise of an ice cream. I didn't even need ice cream as a bait to make me ready to leave the apartment. Tony pulled me out with him, Thor and Stella following us. I didn’t look back at Loki, but I could feel his stare on my back. We walked through the corridor, at the end of which stood all the SHIELD agents in formation.

“You’re all fired!” Tony declared, cheerfully.

There was a moment of silence. Then, one of the agents spoke up. “You don’t have the authority to fire us, Stark. We take our orders from Fury and he will hear about this.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s old Fury gonna do? Take off his eyepatch and show me the horrors within?”

Before the man could open his mouth, Tony cut him off. “Your negligence almost cost me my employee’s life. Now, I don’t know how you do things at SHIELD, but here, no one is dispensable. So, I am going to demand a squad that is active on the job and actually knows what it is doing. So, you’re fired. F.I.R.E.D – Fuck me if I care, Really. End of Discussion.”

And, without another word, Tony whisked us towards the elevator. Thor came up to me while we waited.

“My lady, I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I am truly sorry for my brother’s actions.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thor.” I smiled, tiredly. Just last week, I was turned into a blubbering mess after he had brushed into me. And now, two of the Avengers had sworn to defend me against the bad guy.

Life really did take some interesting turns sometimes.

“Please, call me Thor.” He beamed.

“Only if you stop calling me ‘my lady’ and call me by my name.” While I had found his title for me exceedingly charming at first, it was a too formal for everyday use.

“I am afraid I have not yet had the honour of knowing your name.” He said, gravely, as if it were the most sorrowful thing in the world.

I told him my name and added, “Or you can call me ‘Scandal’, like Tony does.”

“’Scandal?’ Why ‘Scandal?’”

“It is a TV show,” I supplied, hoping he knew what that meant. I did not feel up to bringing him up to date on Earth culture at the moment. “It is about a woman who takes care of crises for the President. According to Tony, Loki, like the President, is a crisis waiting to happen, and I am the one who has to clean up after him. Hence, the nickname.”

“It’s a pretty good nickname.” Tony declared.

“It may be so,” Thor agreed, “But you are far from scandalous, my lady.” He teased. Then, he took my right hand and kissed the knuckles. I felt the heat rising to my face and my heart skipping a few beats from something pleasant, for a change. “Let us hope we meet at a more joyous occasion next time! Stark. Stella.” He acknowledged and made his way back to his own rooms.

I stared long and hard at his biceps till it was time to step into the elevator. Blond and muscly had never been my type, but Thor had become a solid exception to that. _If only Loki were half as benign and charming as Thor._ I sighed softly, trying not to give in to the self-pity. My first day had barely begun, yet I was already dreading the rest of my days in this job. Before my brain could start hemming and hawing again about whether I had done the right thing by taking up this job, I took in a deep breath and shook my head. For better or for worse, I was in the thick of things now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd originally conceived this story as a series of one-shots. The first three chapters were supposed to be one chapter, then the second chapter would have been the first meeting with Loki, and then the third chapter would be a separate one-shot. I had not planned on devoting the entire chapter to the encounter with Loki after the first meeting... and now I've had to split the post-Loki encounter into two. 
> 
> Ah, well, I can't say I'm not happy with it. It gives me more freedom to enrich the story.
> 
> Also, the story does divert from the canonical ending of Thor: Dark World, so be prepared for that! 
> 
> Hope you're liked the chapter! I gotta admit, I'm really proud of the Marilyn Manson joke. Kudos make me smile and comments make me grin like a maniac! I live for your reactions =)


	6. That Time We Did Employee Evaulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if Loki's shenanigans had not been damaging enough mentally and physically, they might also end up scarring you professionally. Follow this story on [ Tumblr ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/178771504122/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-chapter-6)

Tony, Stella and I said nothing as we waited for the elevator. I wondered what work they would line up for me for the rest of the day; as long as it was nothing to do with Loki, I was not going to complain. True, I'd rather have had the option to take the rest of the day off and hibernate, but I guessed 'being terrorised by Loki' was not going to work as an excuse at the Avengers Tower. I dreaded tomorrow; what was going to happen to me? Would Loki finally kill me? _Not before torturing you for all that happened today_ , my brain supplied unhelpfully. I tried not to dwell on it; I knew I would have to confront him tomorrow regardless. So, there was no point in driving myself crazier than I felt already.

Finally, the elevator opened and we stepped in. “Floor 70 for you?” Tony asked me and Stella but pressed the button without waiting for a response.

“Actually, 82.” Stella answered, coolly. That was the floor where Tony’s main office was located.

“Oh?”

“Yes, we need to talk.” Her tone invited no arguments.

“What about?”

“ _This._ This mad, stupid, risky and foolhardy ‘experiment’ you insist on running.” Stella lashed out, turning around to face Tony.

“Stella,” Tony began, cautiously, “We’ve been over this.”

Stella glared at him for a few moments before answering in a deceptively calm voice, “You’re right. I’m going to talk to Pepper.” She pressed the button for the 55th floor, where the bridge that connected the tower to the Stark Industries’ wing was located. 

“No! Stella, please, please, please, please!” Tony whined. “Please don’t bring Pepper into this!” 

“She’s the only one who can bring you to heel, Tony and frankly, I’m fed up of trying to make you see sense.” 

“Stella,” Tony held out his hands in surrender and spoke as if trying to soothe someone in distress, “Please, let’s just talk about this in our office, okay?”

“Tony, I’m telling you as your friend, as your PR and as your employee that this is a recipe for disaster and I’m _sick_ of covering your bases in the aftermath of all the havoc Loki is wreaking.”

Suddenly, the elevator door opened. Neither of them was willing to continue the argument in front of an audience and Tony had strategically placed himself in front of the number pad so that Stella couldn’t make her escape. She refused to break eye contact with Tony as she stormed towards his office. Tony followed her quickly, but I dawdled. I wasn’t sure if I should go to their meeting, even though it sounded like my job was on the line.

Tony realised I wasn’t following him, for he said, “You too, Scandal. Not now,” He added, to his secretary, who had leapt up and was trying to swarm him with some documents he needed to sign.

He locked the door behind him after we were both inside.  He curled his fist and the armour detached itself from his body and reattached itself back on the stand. Now that his helmet was gone, I could see how tired he looked. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and there was a yellow tinge to his skin.

“Alright, shoot.” He said, to Stella.

“She could have died!” Stella shrieked. “He threatened to kill her! And he _would’ve_ killed her, but it would have been _your_ fault!”

Tony tensed up and opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“Do you want me to be grateful that he hasn’t killed one of us already?” Stella continued, literally trembling in her rage. From whatever I had gathered of her during the last week, she was always poised, unflinching and cool. These were important traits for any PR, but essential for someone who handled crises communications. Yet, now, she had shed away the mask of composure for good. I had never seen any employee speak that way to their boss, leave alone a PR with their client, but she had still words aplenty. “Is that what it will take to put an end to this? Him actually killing his PR? Is this what you want the rest of us to commit our days to? Cleaning up after this _folly_?”

“You weren’t raising any objections when I told you I wanted to hire her!” Tony tried changing the topic. My respect for him dipped a little that moment.

Stella cottoned on to his attempt as well. “Don’t you dare try to weasel your way out of this. I didn’t object because I knew there would be no stopping you. If I had known that _this_ would happen, I would have refused to take any further part in this!”

“Look, I didn’t expect he was actually going to go bat shit crazy on any of his PRs, especially not her!”

Both Stella and I gawked at our boss. “Do you expect me to believe that you never thought that the man who tried taking over the world, destroyed this very city and killed hundreds, if not thousands, of people, would not try harming someone completely defenseless and helpless?” She asked, very slowly.

There was a long pause before Tony answered, refusing to meet Stella’s eyes. “No.”

She swallowed whatever remark she had been preparing, shut her eyes and counted to ten. When she began speaking, the anger was still there, but the fire and brimstone were gone. “As PRs, it is my and my team’s responsibility to not judge our client and help them get their point across. I understand what you want and why you want it. But, it is insulting for us to have no choice but to continue working by extension for Loki. It is insulting to have to keep cleaning up his shit so that it doesn’t splash on you as a result, when he has done nothing whatsoever to prove himself worthy of the effort we all are putting into him.”

“I am sorry.” Tony said, blandly.

“For what? For your stubbornness? For not letting us sympathise with our coworkers and instead making us stop them from blabbing and compromising your plans? For almost causing her to die?”

“For everything.” Tony said, hoarsely, to both me and Stella. I couldn’t meet his eye. “She’s not going to be alone. I’m going to have an agent, whom I’m personally going to select, escort her whenever she is within ten feet of Loki.”

“SHE IS JUST A CHILD!” She screamed. I opened my mouth, probably to protest, but she rounded on me, though not in anger. “I have nothing against you, dear. You are smart and from what I’ve seen of you this past week, you have a lot of potential. However, I don’t think you’re ready for something like this, sorry.”

I blinked, trying to quell the feeling of being hurt. Stella was a no-nonsense and direct person. She wasn’t harsh or unkind, but she had little time on hand to call a spade anything but a spade. Sure, I wanted to make Tony satisfied, but I wanted to _impress_ her. I knew what she had said was true, but still, it stung.

“And that’s where you come in!” Tony began, but Stella held up a palm to silence him.

“I and my team have too much on our plate already to take care of her as well. We are happy to guide her and help her. We are happy to look out for her. But, we do not have the time to look _after_ her. And, she is not experienced. Naturally, she will make mistakes; that is just going to mean additional work for us." She sighed, then drew in her breath to try another track, "Tony, I am tired of seeing the people you have brought in leaving with so much anxiety and stress. I cannot bear to watch someone who is just starting out in the world get saddled by all the negativity at best, and actually end up dying at worst. That man is not worth her life and her peace of mind.”

I could feel my stomach and heart growing heavier. Stella had all but refused to have me around anymore and Tony seemed uncertain about what to do as well.

“I’m going to go speak with Pepper now.” She said, quietly. 

“Look, I agree with you, okay?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “And, you are right. And, I want to do the right thing. But, even if you set Pepper loose on me, I can’t do anything right now. We can’t just break a contract.”

“Invoke the exit clause.” Pat came the reply.

“We don't have any reason to at the moment. And, I'd rather not bring in more people, especially lawyers, into this circle of secrets. The only way this can be done cleanly and with as little legal debate as possible is if Scandal invokes the clause.”

They both swung around to look at me. Stella’s gaze was neutral; Tony’s was regretful. Mine, however, was reproachful. _I_ hadn’t done anything wrong. _I_ hadn’t lied about anything or buffed my resume. It was _Tony’s_ decision to hire me despite knowing the extent of my inexperience. It was _Stella’s_ strategy of establishing contact and building a working relationship that I was following. Whatever tasks anyone had set me till now, I had finished with attention to detail and enthusiasm. They had no right to make me quit.

If I quit, I wanted it to be wholly my decision. I was not going to give Loki the satisfaction of having terrorised another ‘mortal’ into despair. Fate had dropped a most unexpected and unrealistic opportunity into my lap and given me a job millions of PRs more experienced and far worthier than me would die for. And, I’d be damned if I didn’t fight tooth and nail to prove myself deserving of it. I knew I was not the best for the job nor the most deserving. But, despite all that, I had still got this surreal opportunity. I was the one who had agreed to take on the challenge. And that was precisely why I needed to keep this job.

I knew what even just a year at this job was going to mean for the rest of my life and I was not going to let an asshole alien get in my way. Yes, I was being materialistic and selfish, but those were also the reasons why I was determined to work damn hard. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was the right person for the job after all. I was being stupid and borderline suicidal and at this rate, I might end up dying literally for my job. Yet, I was also desperate to take the risk at having an extraordinary career. My pride and stubbornness were probably going to be the end of me, but they were also the traits that had helped me persevere so far. I was young, excited, desperate to learn anything and everything and drunk on possibilities and fanciful daydreams. 

“I won’t quit.” I said, softly, but firmly.

Stella’s expression remained the same. Tony’s, however, reflected uncertainty. “Kid…”

“No,” I interrupted. “This is not my fault. You both agreed to hire me and you both are aware of my strengths and weaknesses. I did the best I could do in such an extraordinary situation. In fact, it was I, who diffused the situation back there even though I was the victim in it. I was the one who stopped you from making Loki apologise because I knew that was only going to piss him off and make it harder to strike a working relationship.” _Not to mention that he would have definitely slit my throat in my sleep for it_ , I added mentally. Being so direct and forceful about my ‘accomplishments’ was making me uncomfortable. But, I couldn’t stay quiet and be a passive observer of the discussion surrounding me anymore.

“Look, kid, maybe it is in all our best interests if we just get this over with right now.”

“Then you will have to fire me,” I said, boldly. Getting fired was a really, really bad alternative, especially from Stark Industries, but my pride refused to let me give in. “Because I am not resigning. I may have lucked out on getting the opportunity to apply for this job, but I worked to the best of my ability to show I was deserving of it. No one, Loki or not Loki, is going to take that away from me.”

“You accepted the offer very quickly, and I can see why you did that.” Stella said, evenly. “However, I strongly advise you to think more about what we are saying here. We do not mean to insult you, nor are we saying that we will not help you out, but we need to reevaluate our game plan.”

I tried to calm down and not be terse. “Ms. Lee, I understand your arguments and I agree with them. But, I am not a child. I am inexperienced, but that doesn’t mean that I am some helpless and clueless entity. I am willing to learn and I am willing to work as harder than I am expected to.” Admitting my inexperience and standing firm on my stance were chafing my self-esteem and patience, but I saw no option but to stay strong.

We all stood in tense silence for a few minutes. Tony refused to look at either of us. Stella was staring straight ahead, occasionally throwing me and Tony a glance. I kept staring resolutely, hopefully not outright glaring at them. It was Stella who broke the silence.

“Fine.” Her tone was not cold, but it wasn’t warm and open either. “You will take the rest of the day off and meet me in my office at nine tomorrow.”

I exhaled. I hadn’t realised how hot my face or how tense my shoulders had become. Without another look at either of us, Stella swept out of the office. Tony pursed his lips together in lieu of a smile and nodded at me. Without another word, I too left the office. The Avengers Tower felt unwelcoming once again. I was beginning to hate Loki. Sure, I had disliked him even before he had scared me into hopping on to a kitchen counter and he had definitely not won any favours by choking me. But, now that his stupid prank had clearly had much more serious repercussions, I felt outraged. The extent of my fury worried me - how was I going to be good at my job if I did not like my client at such a personal level? How could I manage to make the world unbiased when I myself was so biased against him?

I was just going to have to be very professional about the matter. I wasn't sure if I was capable of that, however. It would require extraordinary restraint and patience to transport myself into a zone where I could be objective. Irritably, I tried tuning my thoughts off. Now was not the time to go over the mechanics of how I was going to function. Now was the time to cry and be grateful that I still had my job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be a part of the previous one, but then I decided to break them up since one single chapter would've been too long. This was boring to write, but I think it was important to cover. You don't just go back to singing Kumbaya after your alien archnemesis harasses your employee. Next chapter will be Loki and Scandal's first conversation after the... shenanigans... and I think we can safely say the slow burn would begin from there.
> 
> Also, I love you guys <3 Thank you all for your support so far! <3


	7. That Time We Got Career Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a new nickname, courtesy of your new bodyguard. Stella and Loki dole out some advice.

The morning after the fiasco that was my first day, Stella hauled me into her office. 

“Hi,” I said, anxiously.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” I smiled, weakly. I hadn’t slept well. While I had not had nightmares about Loki hunting me down and ending my life, the ups and downs of the day had kept my mind on an overdrive. When sleep had come at last, it was disturbed and fleeting.

Stella nodded. “So, we find ourselves in a difficult situation. You almost died, Tony is being purposely obtuse and I do not have the patience to train another person only to have them run away in despair a month later. For whatever reason, you have decided to stick with the job. Professionally, I admire that.”

I slowly inclined my head towards her, anticipating a ‘but’.

“Personally, I think you’re mad.”

I couldn’t bring myself to object.

“Competent and capable, but mad.”

I had begun having a whiplash from all the times Stella had gone from complimenting me to declaiming her lack of faith in me.

“Look, there is no denying you are inexperienced,” Stella continued, “But I have nothing against you, either personally or professionally. And I will say that I was impressed by how quickly you thought on your feet. You were smart enough to not indulge Tony’s game to make Loki apologise.”

I ducked my head in embarrassment. “Yeah, well, that was more because I was worried about my own survival.”

Stella cocked her head. “You said that you wanted to keep a good working relationship.”

“Well… that is true, yes.” I sighed. “But, it was driven more by wanting to not end up actually dead.”

“Like I said, quick on your feet.”

“Thanks.”

“So, you _are_ terrified of Loki.”

“I’d be mad if I weren’t.” I laughed, shakily.

“And yet, you worked so hard to keep your job.” It was a statement demanding further explanation. 

“A million PRs would die for the job.” I recited, sounding like someone straight out of Devil Wears Prada.

“And, Loki cannot hold a candle to Miranda Priestly, which is also why you decided to stay?” She smirked.

I snorted. “Well, I was upset that I was going to lose my job even though I did nothing wrong and I was the victim. And, I don’t like giving up coveted opportunities easily. And, I’m genuinely interested in the work.”

“Oh, trust me, dear, this is anything but coveted,” Stella said, drily. “Well, I am willing to do this. I can work with someone who is driven professionally. I would’ve been very disappointed if you had said something like everyone deserved to have their side of the story told or how you wanted to show the unseen side of a misunderstood villain.”

“I’m stubborn, not delusional.”

“Good.” Stella clapped her hands. “At first, I hadn’t wanted to have you report directly to me, since I didn’t have the need or the time. Now, however, I am thinking that leaving you run scot-free would only complicate things. I am willing to train and mentor you. You will still be doing the bulk of the work on your own. However, you must report the minutes of every single meeting you have with Loki or regarding him to me. You will only proceed with a plan if it has my approval. I will get the final and preliminary say on every step of the way. And, I will also need you to pitch in to help the rest of the team with whatever side tasks they may have, since there is only so much you can do for a person who is confined to his apartment 24/7. Does that sound fair?”

I frowned in thought for a moment before nodding. It was fair – and her promise of mentorship was more useful than having complete independence. Even if it hadn’t been fair, however, I still couldn’t have found a way around it.

“Sounds good.” I affirmed.

“Good. So, let’s talk about your strategy today.”

“Strategy for what?”

“For talking to Loki, of course.” She looked at me, as if daring me to argue otherwise.

“Wh-what?” I squeaked.

“You will have to talk to him some time. Surely, you realise that?”

“Yes, yes,” I fumbled, for some reason properly registering only now the idea that keeping my job also meant engaging Loki again. “But, why do I have to do it today?”

“If you wait too long, you’ll find it only more difficult to start talking again. And, he’s only going to take your absence as proof that he has managed to scare you off. You don’t need to show you’re brave, but you do need to show that you’re here to stay and that you mean business.”

“Oh, yes, I agree.” I said, even though I did not, actually.

“So, what’s your strategy?”

I ‘uhm’d and ah’d as I looked around everywhere save at Stella. I couldn’t find anything concrete, so I settled for the most useless answer ever: “He told me to bring him coffee. And that I can’t enter before ten.”

Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t believe I’m still too young for retirement. You’d think I’d be older by now, given all the shit I’ve seen.”

I stared at her in pity. Whether it was pity for her or myself, I knew not.

“Well, get him his coffee, explain to him that you hope you can move beyond yesterday’s events and ask him if there is anything else you can do for him. Humour him. Keep him talking. The guy sure does love the sound of his voice. But, for the love of god, _do not_ provoke him. As a PR you need to learn how to keep a tight leash on your temper and think before you speak. I am not one for victim-blaming, but this time, do refrain from screaming at him that he is here thanks to Tony’s generosity.”

“Give me some credit; I refrained myself from telling him he’s not a true king,” I said, petulantly.

“Good job,” Stella returned. “Keep it up. Your life – and your job, since for some reason you value that more than your life – depend on it.”

“Anything else you have in mind?” I all but grumbled.

“No. Agent Robson should be waiting for you outside our office. You can meet him when you’re ready.”

“Agent Robson?” I asked, dumbly.

“Your bodyguard whenever you interact with Loki. He’s going to make sure you get out of harm’s way should anything go wrong.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her, but then shut it quickly. As much as I had tried skirting around it, the notion of going alone to Loki’s apartment had been petrifying me to no end.

“It’s Tony’s orders and this time, I agree with him. Well,” She shrugged, “As much as I can agree with him, given the circumstances. Buy him a coffee, too. That should give him additional incentive to keep you alive.”

I nodded, a tad dismayed that I had to incentivise my survival. Then again, if $3 meant the difference between being dead or alive, I was okay with paying the price.

“Anything else?” She asked.

“No. Thank you, Stella.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Good luck. Remember, Loki is not expecting you to return. And your defense of him would have also surprised him, even if it was in your interest. You are tougher than he thinks – and that is your advantage. Come back as soon as you’re done, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I finger saluted and left the office suite. True to her word, a burly blond in black combat gear was waiting outside. Most people wore only a shoulder, hip or thigh holster; this man wore all three. He carried three handguns and had some deadly looking knives attached at strategic locations on his body. Like Thor, he seemed to be made purely of muscle, but unlike him, his face was hard and not easy on the eyes.

“You are the lackey?” He nodded at me.

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Loki’s lackey,” He bared his teeth in what I supposed was a grin but looked like a snarl.

“I’m not his lackey!” I gritted.

“No? Well, you gotta admit it has a ring to it. The name’s Robson.” Agent Robson extended his hand.

“Hi,” I shook his hand. I was expecting an uncomfortably firm handshake, but he was mindful of his grip. “Nice to meet you.”

“Is it?” Robson grinned again. “I’d rather not be meeting you, miss, because I’d rather not see your life in peril. But, what can we do? That Asgardian has sure got somethin’ up his ass.”

My lips twitched in something resembling a smile. Despite my unease and his gruff manner, his gentle teasing was setting me at ease.

“That’s more like it!” He exclaimed, his face crinkling up as he smiled. He looked much more approachable now. “Are you ready to go to his lair?”

“I need to fetch him some coffee, first.”

“Aren't you just a lackey.” He said and began walking towards the elevator.

“Hey!” I cried out in mock anger.

We went down in silence to the Starbucks joint on the 10th floor. Like all things in Avengers Tower, the Starbucks too was more grandiose than any other I had seen. Tony really did have a penchant for ostentation. I gave the menu a quick one-over, worriedly trying to deconstruct Loki’s vague brief for his drink. I was tempted to get a black coffee as dark as his soul, but I was certain even he would be able to swallow so much bitterness. 

“Hi!” I said, perkily, in the hopes that faking happiness would actually help me feel better.

“Good morning, what can I get you today?” The barista asked, genuinely happier than me.

“A grande caffe latte,” I recited, then turned to look at Robson, “And, what would you like?”

“You don’t need to bribe me, miss.”

I smiled sheepishly, surprised at having had my motives being seen through. “That’s good to know, but still, I’d like to buy you something if you want.”

He still hesitated, so I added, “I’ll file it under expenses, don’t worry.”

Nodding, he said, “Alright, then. A short dark roast.”

I paid up, grabbed the coffee and a couple of sugar sachets and we made our way up to hell. Robson gulped down his coffee quickly, wiping his mouth as he turned to look at me. “So, here’s what we’re going to do when we go in. I’m gonna stand still as a statue and you’re gonna do your thing. If you’re feeling scared, just say a colour. I will step up and be right next to you. If you need to get out immediately, scream whatever comes to your mind. I will get you out of there, I promise. It wouldn’t get to that, because I will use my own judgement to step in when I feel things are going south, but you should know what to do just in case I miss something. Got it?”

“Yup,” I said, sounding more casual than I felt. “Blue if I want help, scream if I’m in mortal peril.”

“Alright,” He affirmed as we swiped our IDs and pressed our fingertips at the door.

I glanced at the agents who stood guard, none of them the same as yesterday. It had taken Tony all of one day to fire, examine and hire a new team and a personal bodyguard for me. I shook my head in amazement. Which PR could claim to have a SHIELD security detail shuffled around all for her sake?

“Good luck, Lackey.” Robson said, affectionately, before we entered.

The apartment had been restored to its former glory. Another painting replaced the smashed one from yesterday and the new centre table complemented the rest of the décor just as well as the one before. I wondered briefly if Loki had done his bit in renovating the apartment before casting away the notion. That man wouldn’t deign to lower himself to something so menial. Besides, Tony had an army of cleaning staff anyway. The owner of the apartment sat in the same place as yesterday, all long legs and arms, seemingly lost in his own world as he read a book. My heart fluttered in distress, the panic and worry flooding straight back in. Maybe I should have listened to my instincts and waited another day. Or a week. Or probably a month.

“Good morning, sir.” My tongue felt swollen and heavy. My face felt as if it were on fire and it was all I could do to not turn around to see Robson’s reaction at my self-inflicted humiliation.

The only movement on Loki’s end was to flip the page.

“I’ve, ah, brought you coffee.” I said, my voice high and breathy.

Again, he did not react. The moments passed by, the coffee grew colder and my fidgeting became worse, before he ever so slowly extended his right arm, not bothering to look up from his reading. 

My heartbeat sped up once I realised that I would have to move closer to him. I heard Robson inching closer, but I could have been imagining it. I shuffled forward sideways, trying to make myself as small a target as possible. His fingers flexed; a warning that his patience was wearing thin. By the time I was within his reach, my entire body was quivering and I was terrified I was going to drop the coffee on his foot. Mercifully, before I could, his fingers wrapped around the cup and pulled it from my grasp. His pinky brushed against mine, the skin almost chilly against my overheated skin. As soon as the coffee was safely in his hold, I skipped back and put a few feet of distance between us.

He raised the cup to his lips, slowly, deliberately, still focused on his book. He took but a sip before finally looking at me.

“What is this?” He asked, softly. His tone surprised me, but I reminded myself to not mistake it for civility.

“Caffe latte?” I asked more than said.

“It belongs in a midden.” He declared.

I blinked at him, taken aback by his verdict. I had never seen anyone be so opinionated about a measly caffe latte.

“You will get me another drink.” He commanded.

“Um, sure. But it would help me if you tell me what you like.” I said, trying to sound as cooperative and apologetic as I could. I didn’t see why I had to be apologetic about not anticipating an alien’s beverage preferences, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“I told you already I want coffee.”

“It has coffee!” I argued. “Sir.” I added, hastily.

“Are you calling me a liar?” His eyes flashed.

I opened my mouth to retort that he _was_ the God of Lies and Mischief, after all. My inner voice, however – which had now begun sounding like Stella – begged me to reconsider. So, I said, “Of course not, sir. But caffe latte, by definition, has espresso and steamed milk in it.” 

Was I really discussing coffee – especially Starbucks coffee – with a Norse god? God, help me. 

“What is ‘espresso?’” Loki asked, mimicking my pronunciation carefully.

“It’s coffee, but more potent.”

“There is nothing potent about this drink.”

Perhaps the black coffee _would_ have suited him better.

“Okay, I’ll get you something stronger tomorrow.” I placated.

“Tomorrow?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. I immediately took another step back. “Why will I wait for tomorrow? You will get me another drink, _now_.”

Was this what the rest of my life was looking like – going on coffee runs for this bastard who took sadistic pleasure out of not telling me what kind of coffee he wanted? I had done enough of that during my internship days; I was certainly not going to carry on the tradition in my full-time job.

“Can we please talk first, sir?”

“You dare bargain with me, worm?”

Oh, we were back to the nicknames, I thought morosely. It was a shame; it was _almost_ pleasant talking with him – as pleasant as talking with anyone like him could be – when he did not insist on belittling me.

“Nooo,” I said, my voice increasing in pitch by the end. “No, no. I just want to do my job, please. You said you wouldn’t intercede in my work, sir.”

I cursed myself for phrasing my objections like that. He was certainly going to view it as I challenging him and this was only going to end in violence again. To my surprise, however, he brought his knuckles to his lips and looked at me contemplatively.

“I suppose you are right. And, I tire of your presence and do not in any way wish to prolong it. Very well, then.”

I was amazed by how deftly he’d gone from insulting me to conceding to me. “Thank you.”

He smirked. “Of course, we do have a small problem.”

My heart started racing again. This man was literally going to be the death of me, one way or another. “What?”

“What shall we do with this pathetic Midgardian excuse for a drink?” Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the cup and jerked it towards me. I shrieked, raising my arms to cover my face, expecting the burn of the liquid any second. Robson rushed to my side, pulling me into him and hunching over me.

We stood like that for what must have been a minute, before Robson whispered to me, “It’s okay, miss, you can open your eyes now.”

His arms loosened around me, but I did not budge, still wary about getting scalded. Slowly, however, I removed myself from his embrace and turned to look at Loki, who still had the beverage in his hand.

Loki looked back at me, vicious glee lighting up his face. Not breaking eye contact with me, he gracefully, deliberately moved the hand holding the drink through the air. “Sit down, little worm,” He said, and put down the cup on the table.

My face heated up from sheer mortification and I stomped rather than walked over to the sofa opposite to him. Robson retreated as well, coming to stop a foot behind the sofa I was occupying.

“Jumpy, are we?” Loki asked, smugly.

“How could I not be?” I lashed out; I couldn’t help myself. “You almost killed me yesterday.”

“Does it hurt?”

“What?” I asked, confused. Surely, he wasn’t asking if I was hurt from yesterday?

“Are you as deaf as you are mentally incompetent, girl? I asked, does it hurt?”

“No,” I muttered. It was true. I had woken up, expecting to be incapable of moving my neck, but I was as right as rain.

“Are there any marks?”

“No,” I replied, frowning. Why was he inquiring after my welfare?

“Then, I did not ‘almost’ kill you.”

“What?” I couldn’t follow the logical leap he’d made.

Loki rolled his eyes. “You are not injured and you are not in pain. Therefore, we can conclude that I had no intention of killing you. If I so wished to, there would be no ‘almost’ killing you; you would have been as dead as Ymir.”

I did not understand the simile, but the meaning was plain enough. I supposed he _had_ been careful. I had been overwhelmed with terror during the actual events. But, when I had thought about them throughout the rest of the day, I had realised that he hadn’t inflicted any pain on me. “Thanks,” I said, bitterly. Pain or no pain, it did not exonerate him any which way.

The smile returned to his face. “Come now, little worm. You can be politer than that.”

“Thank you, sir,” I scowled.

“There we go, good little worm.” He grinned.

“I have a name, you know.” I fisted my pants.

“Good for you!” He exclaimed in mock wonder. “Such a unique little mortal, even having a name!”

“Urgh!” I snarled. “Why can we not have a normal conversation, _sir_?”

“What is an abnormal conversation?” He asked, sweetly.

“This!” I cried, frustrated. “You are always insulting me and threatening me!”

“I have not threatened you today… yet.”

“You are still always insulting me!”

“If things are not to your liking, worm, feel free to leave. None, least of all I, desire your company.” 

I looked away, tears of frustration gathering in my eyes. I could feel both the men observing me and I wanted to flip over the centre table, for no reason other than that it would feel good. _What would Stella do? What would Stella do?_ I asked. _Talk to the bastard. Humour him._ Came the reply. I counted to ten, inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, before turning my head straight again. 

“How are you today, sir?” Though I felt calmer, the forced politeness had already started taking a toll on me.

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to figure what I was playing at, before deciding to indulge me. “As well as I could have been, before you decided to crawl from your burrow into my chambers, little worm. How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, cautiously.

“Of course you are, else you would not have slithered in, despite your claims of me insulting and threatening you. Unless you enjoy that, hmm?”

“It is my job.” I glared at him.

“Your job is to be insulted and threatened by me?” He asked, mirthfully. “You should have said so sooner, little worm. I am only too happy to oblige.”

“It is my job to work with you, sir.” I said, as neutrally as possible. 

“Even if you believe you are in mortal peril?” Loki leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “There are many things in life, however short or long, that you must do against your wishes, but this job is not one of them.”

If I hadn’t been so angry, frustrated, scared or struggling to keep up with his mood changes, I would have given him a salute. Stella had told me that I would be taking Loki by surprise, but there had been no look corresponding to that emotion on his face when I and Robson had walked in. He had treated me as if we had been scheduled to meet and had gone through this routine multiple times. Now, here he sat, demanding an answer without even having asked a question. Gone was the look of a curious child excited to see how he can make his toy break; he was genuinely interested in me as a person for the first time. He was a bastard, but he was a calculating one, and I couldn’t help but admire his way of gleaning information. 

“It was this or quit the job.”

“And, of course, like the good little worm you are, you chose to wriggle back to me.”

“I am here because it is my job to be here, so don’t delude yourself,” I snapped. “Sir,” I quickly amended. Behind me, I felt Robson tense up again.

“You wear skirts _very_ fetchingly, little worm,” Loki smiled evilly and I couldn’t help but shudder as a fresh wave of embarrassment flooded my veins. “But skirting around the issue is not your strength. Do not try to fend me off with half-answers. I assure you, it will not end well.”

I hated myself for shivering. I hated myself for giving in even though I knew he had not yet unleashed the full force of his cruelty and fury on me. “I worked hard to get this job and I am not going to give it up just because you hate me.”

“Hate you?” He asked, gasping in mock hurt. “No, little worm. I do not hate you. You are too insignificant to hate.”

“Good!” I scowled.

“So insignificant and so young. Stark and his cronies must have been desperate and delusional to think that you could do what others prior to you could not.”

I clenched my jaw, irate that he had been able to piece together the crux of the matter from so little information. I tried to mask my emotions, but I needn’t have bothered trying, for he noticed my reaction in an instant.

“You want to prove yourself.”

“They are just concerned about me because _someone_ decided to assault me.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“And you think their concern is unwarranted?”

“No.”

“No,” He echoed. “But, they show concern because they are worried you are not capable enough.”

“I am capable!” I growled, leaning forward as if ready to attack. It didn’t take a genius to realise that the quickness and indignation behind my response spoke more than the words themselves.

“But, no one else sees it, do they?”

“I earned this job and I am not going to leave just because you bully me, sir.” I snapped, not caring how my response was not an answer to his question. I just wanted to get something out.

Loki looked at me coolly for an uncomfortably long time. I tried to maintain the rigidness in my body, in the hopes that it would drive home my seriousness, but my muscles were beginning to tire. When he did break the silence, it was in a deceptively soft voice. This time, however, I did not think that the softness masked some malicious intent. 

“I do not counsel mortals, for they are seldom worthy of my time and expertise. But, I will deign to this one time, so you will pay close attention, mortal,” He prefaced. “Do not spend your pathetically short life trying to prove yourself to others. Nothing good or productive will come out of it. Prove yourself to yourself and you will be much more successful and much less bitter.”

I gaped at him. All this time, he had been barely civil to me, leave alone respectful. Yet, now he was not just listening to me, but also giving me advice. Not just any advice at that – good, solid, powerful advice. Advice that clearly - again, it did not take a genius to see this - came from personal experience. I didn't know what personal experience he had had, but it comforted me to know that even gods felt at odds sometimes. He looked at me, silently demanding me to show I had understood him. I nodded sharply, and he went back to his neglected book. I should have taken my cue and been sensible and departed. But, we had begun getting along much, much better than I could’ve imagined and I did not want to end our rendezvous only to revert to the mutual hostility tomorrow.

Daring to take the risk, I spoke up. “Are you hurt?”

He looked up at me, suspicious. “Why would you care?”

“I –” I stumbled. There was no good answer to that. “I’m just hoping you are not in pain.”

“Are you, now?” He sneered. I was dismayed, though not completely surprised, to see that almost-benign, contemplative Loki disappear. “Did you not enjoy my pain yesterday?”

“No,” I said, quickly.

“Do not lie to me!” He barked.

“Okay, okay!” I said, alarmed. “I’m sorry!”

“Was it not on your command that the man of iron and my brother came swooping in like the heroes from your stories of old?” He continued. “Did you not regret that they did not do to me what I did to you?”

“Firstly, no, I did not sic them on you. And, secondly, I’m not into torture, okay?” I snapped, thoroughly annoyed again. “Fine, I was satisfied you were in pain but I wasn’t praying for you to be writhing in agony and begging for mercy. That’s really not my style.”

“And yet, you wasted a golden opportunity.” He jeered. “You should not have stopped Thor and Stark from making me apologise.”

“What good would come of that?” I snorted, not failing to notice how again he had not framed his query as a question. “You said I am too insignificant to hate, but making you apologise would have made me significant enough, I guess. And like I said yesterday, you wouldn’t have meant it anyway, so what’s the point?”

“The point is to use humiliation as a punishment, of course.” Loki said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, well,” I stood up and adjusted my clothing. I was feeling irritated and upset that he had squashed that tiny sliver of normalcy and decency that had come up barely a minute ago. I had had enough of this man for today, Stella's voice of reason be damned. “You are too insignificant to punish, sir.” And without another word or glance, I left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this chapter took so long to write. College is hell, I was procrastinating hard and then I was worried about making Loki and the Reader's interaction snazzy enough. I *think* it turned out well. Really envy Scandal and her plushy job right now; unemployment is waving at me right now.
> 
> The current score is Reader/Little Worm/Mortal/Kid/Scandal/Lackey: 1; Loki: 1. 
> 
> Also, Loki dishing out advice is my idea of beginnings of a slow burn, feel free to shoot me if you disagree. Kudos make me smile, comments make me blush.


	8. That Time We Applied Persuasion Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try standing up for Loki for a change. Does it end well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... 31 kudos for the last chapter?? Thank you so, so, so much! You're all amazing and I love you!

“You said _what_?” Stella exclaimed.

“I said, ‘You are too –’”

“I heard you the first time!” 

“No, no, no!” Tony exclaimed, with a shit eating grin. “I want her to say it again.”

I rolled my eyes, torn between wanting to give into my mirth and wanting to slap myself for having said something like that. “You are too insignificant to punish, sir.”

Tony guffawed. “Oh, wait till I tell Clint this. He’s going to love you, kid! And so do I, for that matter!” He walked closer and gave me a fist bump. “See, Stella, I told you she’s perfect.” Stella merely glowered at us both. Suddenly, his good mood disappeared and he rounded on me. “Wait a second. Did you actually say ‘ _sir_?’”

My eyes widened and I looked at my feet. “Um… yeah… Loki insisted on being called that.”

“For fuck’s sake!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s here on detention, not to jerk off.”

I scowled, trying to stop my brain from visualising that action. Mercifully, it complied.

“Whatever happened to ‘do not provoke him?’” Stella called out.

“Hey, we were making progress!” I shrugged. “I even tried asking him how he’s doing but then he had to become hostile again. I just felt upset because he had actually been nice to me just seconds before… well, as nice as he could be, I guess.” 

Tony raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘nice?’”

I bit my lip, not willing to give him too much context, but also not wanting for him to be unaware of Loki’s attempts at civility. “He… he gave me some advice. Told me to prove myself to myself if I wanted to be successful.”

Stella looked intrigued, but that was nothing compared to the look on Tony’s face. His mouth hung open, jaw slack and his eyebrows were reaching up to his hairline. He couldn’t have been more surprised if someone had told him that Stark Industries had declared bankruptcy. 

“He told you _what_?”

“I know, right?” I filled in, not sure what else to say.

He collected his wits before shaking his head. “You must’ve heard him wrong, Scandal. ‘Nice’ isn’t in his dictionary - or book of spells.” 

“That _is_ what he said."

“Whatever.” He mumbled. “Anyway, Stella, she’s right to not be too nice to him. He takes any kindness and niceness as a sign of weakness. You can’t be servile to him if you want to properly engage him.”

I was bemused by his refusal to grant Loki any concession. He was right to not look too deeply into what had only been three seconds of niceness, but I hadn’t expected him to not even give Loki a benefit of doubt. Loki had been living in the Tower for more than a year and was given access to the common areas and the gym in the penthouse levels without any escort. He also had access to Earth entertainment and literature. Clearly, he had been given these allowances because he had reformed to some extent. Then again, I had no right to object. I hadn’t been the one to carry a nuke through a wormhole in space and, if the rumours were to be believed, been grabbed by the throat and flung through a glass wall.

“You’re a bad influence on her, Tony.” Stella said, reproachfully.

“I’m a bad influence on myself,” He declaimed. “But, seriously, Scandal. You did good today.”

I wasn’t sure if better than yesterday counted as ‘good’, but I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Well, come along. There’s a lot of work to do,” Stella stood up. “And, I have some books on reputation management for you to read.” I made a face, but before I could say anything, she butted in, “And don’t you dare complain.”

I readjusted my expression and we went back to our office, where I settled down to work on whatever the team needed (very interesting) and squeeze in the reading (dreadfully dull). The rest of the week went by in the same way. To my surprise and immense relief, Loki did not bring up my sass from the end of Tuesday. He contented himself with taking a sip from his coffee, berating my ineptitude at fetching him something drinkable and telling me to cease my chattering whenever I tried to engage him in small talk. The result was that I spent an hour each day in his apartment with absolutely nothing to do other than play with my hair.

From Monday onwards I started bringing in my reading. I figured the threat of utter boredom was a good motivator to actually get me to pay attention to the dry and rambling sentences. Once I started paying the words my undivided attention, I found that the ideas weren’t bad, even if they were solely focused on the theoretical side. I could have read in the office itself, but I had thought that reading “with” Loki was a way of bonding and Stella had agreed. It was hardly a grand effort, but I knew that it was subtle gestures such as these that formed the bread and butter of PR.

Robson, bless his soul, did not fidget or complain. He reassured me that as long as Loki did not come within touching distance of me, he did not care if I read or slept or danced on the sofa. And, while he still insisting on calling me Lackey, he was good about only addressing me as ‘miss’ when we were inside Loki’s apartment. By Friday, however, I was beyond paying attention to another word in the book. So desperate was I to do anything other than read that I was ready to make another ill-advised attempt at conversation. I shut the book as softly as I could. My stomach was fluttering uncomfortably as I drew in a breath that was too loud for the silence of the room.

“How are you, sir?” I even managed a polite smile.

No response. I hadn’t expected him to look up from his book – he had had a new one each day – on my first attempt after all.

“What’s this book about, sir?” I tried again.

This time, he deigned to place a finger on his lips.

I waited for a while before prodding again. “Do you need any more books, sir? I’m assuming you must have read them all by now.” I finished with an awkward laugh.

He finally looked at me, thoroughly annoyed. I wasn’t as worried as I should’ve been – at this point, I was desperate for him to talk, even if it was to verbally abuse me. “Why do you waste your energy for fetching responses to questions you have no genuine interest in asking?” 

“I _do_ care.” I said, indignantly. 

“Oh?” He exhaled and my relief started taking a turn towards worry. “Well, then, why should I bother giving answers I have no interest in giving?”

I had absolutely no idea how to reply to that, but I didn’t want the conversation to shut down. “Aren’t you bored of reading?”

“This book is more interesting and useful than an insipid Midgardian like you could even dream to be in a hundred lifetimes.” 

“Well, what is the book about?” I repeated, desperately trying to keep my temper in check.

“You would not be able to understand the first syllable of it.” Loki said, infuriatingly sweetly.

“Try me.” I said, trying to sound blasé, but I knew I sounded anything but.

“No.” He said simply.

“Why not?” I asked, now genuinely bewildered why he was being so apathetic towards me. The Loki of the past week had been just as I had expected and then some. This Loki, however, was not someone whom I could imagine making a theatrical speech about subjugating humanity while dressed in over-the-top otherworldly armour.

“Because I do not want to.” He said, then lurched forward. “Why? What are you going to do? Set your precious Avengers on me simply because I refuse to gush about what an adorable and promising and bright creature you are?”

Where was that coming from? “What? No!” 

“Oh wait, I forgot,” He interrupted and looked away, then back at me for dramatic effect. “I am too insignificant to punish, after all.”

It took two seconds for the implication of the line to sink in, and two more seconds for me to shut my mouth. “Oh, come on!” I spluttered, “ _That’s_ what this all is about?”

He scoffed. “What do you think I am? A petty mortal, that I will spend my time moping about a feeble attempt at an insult thrown at me?” He sneered. “You did not even dare wait to hear my response. Even with your wet nurse of an agent, you were so scared that you bolted out of my chambers as soon as the words passed your lips.”

“I – I did not mean it!” I stammered. I had intended to be sassy, to give back as good as I got, since all our conversations rested on the premise of him insulting me and me being insulted. _Hurting_ him – alien overlord or not – hadn't even crossed my mind.

“Then, you are no different from the rest of your cohort of copulatives.” _Cohort of what, now?_ I wanted to ask, but he went on. “Prizing yourself for your supposed code of ethics when all you do is lie and delude yourself into believing you are honest. You neither mean what you say nor say what you mean, but that truth is too painful to accept, is it not? So, you go about your lives, thinking that you are being a beacon of virtue by indulging someone’s trivial misery when in reality, you do not care.”

Whatever I had been expecting, a sermon hadn’t been it. I smarted under the tirade, unsure what was worse: the simmering displeasure behind the rebuke or the fact that I was the target of it. “I am sorry.” I said, smally. I wasn't even sure what I was apologising for, or better still, how we had come from him insulting my intelligence to him scoffing at my code of ethics.

“Sir.” He added.

“I am sorry, sir.” I repeated, irritated at both him and myself. 

“Are you, now? Or are these just more empty words with no intent or action to back them?” 

“I _am,_ ” I affirmed. “But, you’re not going to believe me anyway.”

“Prove it with your actions.”

“What actions?” I looked up, dreading where this was heading.

“Get Stark to lift my confinement to my rooms.”

“What?” I asked, shocked. “What confinement?"

"Are you deaf or merely incapable of understanding simple speech?"

I rolled my eyes. "What confinement?" I repeated.

"Do you know what the word 'confinement' means, little worm?" Oh, so not only was I being addressed as a 'little worm', but I was being called that in a patronising tone. Great.

"Yes." I sulked.

"What does it mean?"

I realised he actually wanted me to answer. "Being restricted from going outside."

"Good," He said, with no small amount of fake pride. "Very good."

"Tony did that?" I asked, and immediately cringed inwardly. A few floors above me, Steve Rogers was being Captain America, and here I was, being Captain Obvious.

“Clearly,” Loki gritted his teeth.

“I had no idea!” Again, I wasn’t a fan of Loki, but I truly did not care for punishing him in any way for his crimes against me.

“How quintessentially mortal of you.” He drawled. “Oblivious to everything save your selfish desires and petty existence. Ignorant about what effects you cause, however direct or indirect.”

That really wasn’t fair coming from the guy who had selfishly tried to take over the world, but I didn’t voice that complaint. “Look, sir, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please believe me when I say that I really had no intention for this to happen.”

Loki regarded me. “I really do not care about what intentions you do or do not hold. I had been given free run of some floors of the Tower without any escort and now that has all been taken away because your benevolent ‘Mr. Stark’ used you as an excuse to do what he had wanted all along. Your mortal intellect and behavior are hardly a pleasure to behold, but it is your cluelessness that truly infuriates me.”

Like in all conversations with him, I had begun feeling drained. But, this time, there was neither the option to beg for forgiveness, nor the option to deliver a wisecrack and make my escape. What was even more of a bitter pill to swallow was that I now realised my job was going to be way more difficult than I had previously anticipated. My first goal wasn’t to improve perceptions of Loki to the people outside – it was to make him likeable to the Avengers themselves. Till I managed to get that done, no effort at presenting him as a reformed, repentant and introspective god to the public was going to matter. The people who had thwarted him and would pay millions to watch Loki burn had to accept him for him to be even allowed to leave his apartment, leave alone the Tower, in the foreseeable future.

After a few minutes of rumination, I spoke up. “I will talk to Mr. Stark and request him to lift your confinement.”

“I do not hold much confidence in your assurance. After all, you are still so insignificant yourself.”

I didn’t take the bait. “Fine, I’ll speak to Thor, then.”

He huffed. “Well, that may have a higher chance of success.” 

“Okay. Um.” I fidgeted. “I’ll go to Mr. Stark now. So. I’ll leave you now. Bye.” 

“About time.” Loki muttered.

I got up and ran towards the door, almost slipping in my haste. Robson followed behind me in more leisurely steps.

“Are you going to need me later, Lackey?” He called.

“No, thank you, Agent!” I yelled back. “And _please_ stop calling me that!” I added and raced down to Tony’s office.

I had to keep checking in with his secretary throughout the day, for he was occupied in meetings one after the other, but I finally got the green light late afternoon. I was in luck, but only just, for Tony and Pepper were exiting his office arm in arm, clearly ready to celebrate Friday evening.

“Oh, hey, Scandal! Pepper, you remember Scandal, don’t you?”

“She’s got a nickname already?” Pepper asked, exasperated.

“It’s a badge of honour. It means she’s a part of the fold.”

“By that logic, so is Loki.” She muttered loud enough for only us three to hear.

“Pepper!” Tony exclaimed as he put his hand to his chest. “I would _never_ liken someone in the team to Tommy Wiseau!”

I snorted loudly and hastily wiped away the drool from my face. Even Pepper cracked a smile. Tony, of course, was beyond thrilled that two women were amused at his joke.

“I wish I could say his nicknaming get easier to live with,” Pepper said to me, “But, I’d be lying. How are you, though? Tony is full of praises for you! How was your first week?”

“Oh, I’m great, thank you!” I said, self-conscious about Tony praising me despite me not having done anything of worth. “And, yes, work is challenging, _obviously_. My first week was great, it did get off to a –” I trailed off when I saw Tony, now standing slightly behind Pepper, making furious gestures at me to not reveal anything.

I swallowed and attempted again. “Yeah, it got off to a surprising start. Loki wasn’t as evil as I thought he’d be.” That was true – he was way more evil than I could’ve imagined. I noticed Tony relax and let out a breath of my own.

“Oh?” Pepper looked in surprise between me and Tony. “Wow. Well, that’s certainly an improvement. I guess it’s all the better that we have you here now!”

“Oh, it’s all thanks to Tony.” I waved.

“Give yourself some credit, Scandal.” Tony said, firmly. “Fresh out of college and having survived a meeting with Reindeer Games is no small feat. Now, is there anything urgent you needed to discuss?”

“It’s about Loki,” I said.

I wasn’t entirely surprised when Tony nodded at Pepper to carry on. She gave me a little hug and trilled, “See you later, sweetie,” And went on her way.

Once she was out of earshot, Tony spoke. “That was a good save there, kid. Remember, Pepper can know nothing about Loki’s shit. Your job and my life are at stake.”

I nodded.

“Right, now, tell me what’s up.”

I had been preparing my speech throughout the day. My first step was to play on his existing beliefs and create a need for information.

“So, you know how he was so moody and grumpy all of this week and the previous one?” I began, conspiratorially.

He nodded.

“Well, I found out why he was acting so sullen!”

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because he took my ‘You are too insignificant’ line to heart!” I crowed.

“Seriously?” He exclaimed.

“Yep!” I bobbed my head.

“How did you find out?” He asked, having excitedly taken the bait.

Step 1 was a success. Now, step 2: Fulfill the need for information.

“Well, I tried to get him to talk to me. He said no, then he asked me if I was going to sic you on him. Then he went all, ‘Oh, wait a minute, I’m too insignificant to punish!’” I deepened my voice and made the words sound colder and more clipped in what I hoped was a good imitation of Loki.

“That man’s such a fucking diva,” Tony muttered.

“I know, right?” I gushed. I didn’t actually feel up to insulting and abusing Loki at the moment, but persuasion theories demanded I understand the beliefs and values of my audience, and etiquette demanded I agree with my boss. “It’s really not easy working with him.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbled. “Has he been behaving otherwise?”

“I guess. But I’d really like to get the ball rolling. I hope I’m not being too forward when I say this,” I began, “But I was wondering if you could help me get him to open up a bit more?”

Tony loved solving problems and asking for his help was the best way to get him in agreement. True to my calculation, he looked surprised, but pleased, to have been asked. “How can I help you with that?”

“A part of his angst seems to come from being confined to his rooms all day. Perhaps, if you would allow him to leave his apartment for a few hours a day, he would be more compliant and less broody?”

Tony stared hard at me. With every passing second, my courage started crumbling and I opened my mouth to take back my words. “Of course, you know best, I was just suggesting, I wouldn’t dare…” I started rambling, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“What has he been telling you, kid?”

“I'm sorry!” I squeaked.

He shook his head. “I’m not angry, kid. And don’t you dare feel worried about suggesting something or bringing up an idea, okay? I just want to know what he’s been saying to you.”

“He said that you had given him freedom to leave the apartment but after I came you took it away.” I said, softly, feeling extremely foolish now.

He inhaled sharply. “Right, two things: first, yes, I took away his freedom to leave the apartment unescorted whenever he wants after he pulled that stunt with you. But, he still gets to leave in the morning for three or four hours to work out and train. Second, even when he did have unrestricted access to the rest of the penthouse, he would more often than not brood and act all emo rather than accept Thor’s invitation to join the us. Not that I or anyone else minded, of course. We’d rather not be around Loki, and Loki would rather not be around us. But, here’s my point: whatever spiel he’s been giving you, he’s not exactly locked up and left to rot – remember, he was there without a chaperone when you came for your interview. And, he has had the choice to leave his rooms, but it’s not my fault he hardly ever took up on that offer.”

“Oh,” I muttered, now feeling like the dumbest fucking person ever. My fists were clenched, my jaw hurt from how I was grinding it and my face felt uncomfortably hot. The most embarrassing bit was that technically, Loki hadn’t even lied to me. It was I, in my infinite thickheadedness, who had assumed he had been locked away and deprived of all social contact.

“Yeah.” Tony intoned. “Look, Scandal, I can make out you’re very conscientious and caring – and those are great qualities to have in a PR – but you can’t let Loki exploit that. Heck, the man was hissing in your face two weeks ago, choking you last week and had the audacity to accuse you for being the cause for his ‘imprisonment’ this week!”

“God…” I groaned and rubbed my face. How could I have been so stupid? _Loki was right,_ I thought. _I really was pathetic._

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed, “Breathe. It’s okay. Thank you for being brave enough to come up to me and talk with me. I’ve made no secret of how much I hate his slimy, oily self, after all. But, kid, you really need to stop letting him manipulate you so easily. Can’t you see how completely unreliable and untrustworthy he is?”

“What am I supposed to do then?” I cried. “How can I do my job if I can’t even work with him?”

“No one’s stopping you from working with him. You just need to be more aware that this is not a guy with a midlife crisis embezzling his company to pay for private orgies; this is _Loki_. His lies and manipulation are a notch more sophisticated than the guy trying to pass off a visit to the strip club as a business visit to his wife. You need to remember that this is the same guy who has hurt thousands of people. You cannot and _should not_ forget that – and you cannot and should not try to erase that.”

“Yup,” I said, glumly, not sure whether I wanted to kick him or myself more. “I’m sorry.”

“Scandal,” He sighed. “Stop saying you’re sorry. Just don’t forget what I’m telling you and work on it, okay?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay. I need to go, now, but hit me up if you need something else!” Tony said as he started rushing towards the exit.

“Will do!” I said, flatly.

I waited till he had disappeared, before running down to my office. It was Friday evening and much of the team had already left, save for Roisin and Morgan. After a cursory discussion of weekend plans, I swooped down to retrieve my phone. Feeling hesitant about starting ranting in the still-occupied office, I made a beeline for the restroom. After checking beneath the doors of the stalls to make sure it was truly empty, I pulled out my phone and began stabbing the screen. Robson’s name came up, and I pressed the green button.

“Agent Robson!” I shrieked, as soon as he picked up the phone.

“What’s up, Lackey?” The nickname and the calm tone of his voice did my anger no wonders.

“Don’t call me that!” I spat.

“Okay, okay," He whistled. "Take a chill pill. What's up?"

“Are you still around?” I asked, trying to sound relaxed and not bitchy.

“No, I left two hours ago. Do I need to come in?” 

I exhaled. “No, no.” Just because Loki had ruined my Friday, it didn’t mean I had to ruin someone else’s. I wasn’t going to call Robson away from his well-deserved weekend simply because I wanted to slap Loki to kingdom come. “No. It’s okay. See you on Monday. Sorry. Thanks. Bye.” 

I ran down the stairs to my apartment. Flinging the door open, I tossed my purse in one direction, my phone in another (making sure it safely landed on a soft surface), flipped my shoes off, fisted my hair, took in a deep breath and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scandal right now:
> 
> Score: Scandal - 1, Loki - 2.
> 
> Also! Copulatives is a word Shakespeare uses in As You Like It as an insult - it literally means fuckers. So, Loki just called the Avengers a cohort of fuckers in Shakespearean. You're welcome.
> 
> And... I wanted to make this chapter WAY more Loki focused, but honestly, I'm enjoying writing Irondad more than I thought I would be! Hope you guys like it too, please do let me know if you think I should/or shouldn't continue in this vein! I really welcome your feedback. Anyway, next chapter is going to have a lot more Loki and burgeoning sexual tension ;)


	9. That Time We Availed Employee Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to work out with Clint and check out some Odinsons.

_BANG BANG BANG_

“Stop…” I moaned.

_BANG BANG BANG_

“Stop!”

_BANG BANG BANG_

“STOP!” I thrashed about and immediately fell out of my bed. I clutched my bed weakly as I trembled all over and my pupils wildly darted about in every direction. The pain in the arm on which I’d landed quickly began cutting through my confusion and rooted me in the present. I realised that the banging I’d been hearing came from someone knocking on my door. Clumsily, I shot my hand out towards the bedside table in search for my phone. Rubbing the stickiness from my eyes, I stared hard at the screen, not sure if my brain was seeing the correct information.

Someone was knocking on my door.

At 6 am.

On a Saturday.

“Scandal!” Someone’s voice called out. “Wake up, buddy!”

_What?_

I heaved myself off the floor – with no small effort – and swayed lightly on the spot. It took me a while to remember that _I_ was Scandal. It took me another few seconds to remember that that was Tony’s preferred moniker.

Why was Tony knocking on my door at 6 in the morning on a Saturday? Heck, was it even Tony? The voice sounded different. Frustratingly, it was not relenting.

“Scandal, wake up, I know you’re in there, dude.”

_Dude?_

As far as I knew, Tony never called me dude. So if this wasn’t Tony, then who was it?

_Loki._

Panic seized me but relinquished its hold on me almost as quickly when I realised that Loki would never call me dude either. But, what if he was acting? Surely, impersonation was one of his many deadly abilities. But, why had he come down to my apartment? Did he even know where I lived? I doubted it, but I wasn’t completely sure. I quickly dismissed the idea of climbing down the fire escape – while I would have rather frozen to death than confront Loki at this hour, it was going to take simply too much effort.

It was then that a truly groundbreaking idea struck me: I could use the peephole on my door. Exasperated with the slowness of my brain, I shuffled towards the kitchen, withdrew a knife, then headed towards the door. Not even daring to breathe, I looked through the peephole and gasped.

It was Agent Barton.

I unlatched the lock and opened the door slowly – more out of lethargy than caution. When it became clear to me that he wasn’t going to dissolve into thin air and transform into Loki, I dumbly asked, “What?”

“Finally, dude. I’ve been standing here for an hour!”

“Huh?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t Tony tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I asked, beginning to sway on the spot again.

“About your training?” He asked, slowly.

“What training?” Any moment longer, and I was going to fall asleep standing up.

“Why are you holding a knife, kiddo?”

“What?” I asked, then remembered that I was clutching a knife. “Oh.” I found myself unable to vocalise anything.

“Are you okay? You look… exhausted.”

“Yeah. Sure. I was asleep.”

“Don’t tell me you were stabbing people in your sleep.” He laughed. At least one of us was being entertained from this situation.

“I’m gonna go back to sleep now.” I yawned and began shuffling back.

“Yeah, sorry, kiddo, that’s going to wait.” He sounded sorry, but I didn’t believe him.

“Why?” I asked, almost ready to cry now.

“Like I said, I’m here for your training session.”

“ _What training?_ ”

“Self-defense, man. You work for Loki, so you gotta know how to defend yourself. Tony’s been telling me what’s been happening between you two. Since Tony doesn’t know how to spell the word ‘dangerous’, leave alone know what it means, I volunteered to help you out.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” I blurted, then winced at how bitter and ungrateful I sounded. Whatever.

“Wow,” He whistled. “I can see why Tony likes you.”

“I mean,” I hopped on one foot, then the other, “Why not tell someone else to do it? Why you? Why _now_?”

“I can’t get someone to give you one-on-one lessons on how to hypothetically protect yourself from a god when you’re not even a SHIELD trainee and when the only god who’s here according to public knowledge is Thor.”

“Right.”

“As for why it has to be _now,”_ He continued, “Neither of us has any time otherwise.”

“There’s time… after 6…” I whispered.

“Not for me,” He whispered back. “I don’t get to have a weekend.”

A dry sob escaped my mouth.

“Oh, come on, dude,” Agent Barton ruffled his hair. “I thought this was going to be fun. Would you really rather die at Loki’s hands than learn how to defend yourself from him?”

At this moment, I would actually have welcomed death, but I perceived that the question was rhetorical and my answer would not be appreciated. So, I settled on, “I have Agent Robson to keep me safe.”

“Yeah, and Loki can probably kill him from ten feet away before either of you can even say ‘Asgard’. You still need to know how to make your escape.” He sighed loudly, before adding, “Alright, enough talk. Go change into your workout clothes. The longer you dawdle the more I’m going to make you sweat.”

“What if I don’t have workout clothes?” I asked, clutching on to my last ray of hope.

He shrugged. “Workout clothes, pyjamas, speedos – it’s all the same to me. Heck, I’d teach you how to fight in stilettos and a dress, but that’s not my area of specialty. Maybe I can rope Nat in for one lesson.”

I stared at him before he huffed again. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on! And please, drop the knife; it’s bad enough Loki keeps brandishing his.”

I scowled and slithered back inside, making no effort to shut the door gently. I put the knife back in the kitchen and sluggishly changed into my workout clothes. I stared longingly at the bed. I could practically hear the blankets luring me back into the warmth and softness, but I had no choice but to resist. Still, it didn’t mean I had to be prompt either. I took my sweet time, going close to push my luck, but not quite; no one messed with an Avenger. Unless they were Loki, of course.

I stepped out and we fell into step as he began leading us to wherever. “So, why were you carrying a knife?” He asked.

“Hmm?” I asked, still a little dazed. “Oh. I guess I…” I trailed off.

“You thought I was Loki?” He prompted, a tad amused.

“Yeah.” I admitted, sheepishly.

“Man’s worked a number on you.”

That he had for sure, and so far, his worst crime seemed to be him being directly responsible for me having to wake up so early on the weekend. I was still grumpy, but I was also curious. “So, what, do you do this for everyone who decides to become Loki’s PR?”

“Nah. Haven’t needed to; you’re the first one he’s attacked.”

“Great.” I grumbled.

“Yeah, you’ve got quite a mouth on you. I don’t think anyone else pissed him off like you did.”

“Believe me, it was all unintentional.”

“I sure hope so! I know you’re swayed by Tony and want to be as cool as him, but that doesn’t mean you should lose your head in the process, kiddo. Don’t let Tony’s excitement get the better of you.”

“He said that you would enjoy my comebacks.” I said, wryly.

He grinned. “I sure do. That _may_ have been a part of why I signed up to teach you. But, I won’t advocate them. I wouldn’t mind watching Loki burn, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make you set him aflame.

“That’s nice of you,” I jested.

Agent Barton took me up to the Avengers’ private gym in the penthouse. To say it was cavernous would be an understatement – it spanned an entire wing and reached up to the topmost floor of the Tower. It was partitioned into many rooms, fields and courts varying in space and height. I read the names of the sections as we walked past the doors: aerial combat, anti-gravity chamber, simulation and rock climbing, and many more. The one that most interested me was the underwater combat zone.

He must have noticed the wonder on my face, for he commented, “We ended up betting whether the Hulk could survive underwater. I’ve never seen Bruce as happy as the Hulk as he was in that moment. Tony betted against him surviving… and ended up losing a lot of money. It was a good day.”

In my mind’s eye I saw an ugly green behemoth acting like a well-trained dolphin at SeaWorld. It was grotesquely hilarious.

“Am I even supposed to be here?” It looked too high-tech for me to even breathe here, leave alone train.

“Not really. But, I can’t take you down to the gyms for the SHIELD agents or regular employees because people will ask why you’re getting a one-on-one with me. I also can’t ask a SHIELD agent to train you, for the same reason. We do have instructors who hold self-defense classes for our employees, but those won’t teach you how to fend off a god. So here’s where it’s gonna be. Don’t worry,” He added, seeing my look of hesitation. “I’ve cleared it with Tony.”

I nodded, “Thank you, Agent Barton.”

He smiled. “Just call me Clint, kiddo.”

I nodded again. We finally came to a stop at a large blue-coloured mat that ran across the rest of the room. The walls were metallic silver and white, a colour scheme more appropriate for a laboratory than a gym. The lights were on, though I noticed that the gym was surrounded by metal blinds that could be raised to let in the sunlight. There were observation decks above, though at the moment they were empty. At the far end of the mat was a rack. It was full of knives, swords, maces, axes and spears of all sizes, and even a couple of hammers. I followed Clint on to the mat and he turned to face me.

“How much physical activity do you do each week?”

I thought for a moment. “I used to work out for an hour or so thrice a week, but I haven’t been doing much since I joined here three weeks ago.

“Hmm. So you aren’t in good shape.”

Well, yes, I was no Gisele Bündchen, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t passable for my age, height, weight and lifestyle. “It’s not that bad,” I grumbled.

“We’ll have to ease you in anyway. There’s a 400m track marked here, let’s make one lap around that.”

Clint and I jogged alongside in silence. To my chagrin, but not surprise, he barely broke a sweat. I, on the other hand, couldn’t hide my own perspiration, but I tried to control my breathing to not show just how out of breath I was. Over the next hour and a half or so, we did some plyometrics, core-strengthening exercises, cardio and stretches. I appreciated how patient he was with me and how committed he was to making sure my form was right. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to correctly position myself for a push-up or a sit-up or a triceps-dip and he made me start from the beginning if my form faltered even once. Despite his penchant for perfectionism, he was careful to not over-exert me. I came to the conclusion I would never be able to turn to a hired gym instructor again after training under Clint.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He declared at long last. “Take a hot shower so that your muscles don’t cramp up. If you’re up to it, take a warm shower before you sleep tonight as well. You should be feeling better by tomorrow and once we get going again, your soreness will disappear for good.”

“Get going… again?” I asked, mildly horrified.

“You don’t think you can become fit by just working out once a week, do you?”

“But… my weekend…” I pleaded. I _needed_ to sleep till at least ten in the morning on weekends to feel fully replenished. Clearly, I still hadn’t shrugged off my college habits.

“Well, this is how we’re doing things for at least the next two weeks. However,” He looked at me sternly, “If you take the time to work out for even half an hour each weekday, I will see the difference and might decide to cut back on Sunday workouts.”

I almost clapped my hands in glee and nodded. A second later, however, I realised that half-an-hour a day was easier said than done. Still, if a few extra hours of sleep on the weekend was my incentive, then I was damn well going to work towards it.

“Okay,” Clint said. “Let’s get Princess Aurora back to her beauty sleep.” He walked off the mat and I followed him. We began retracing our steps when a booming voice echoed in the gym. I jumped at the sound, then twitched when I saw the source of it appear.

It was Thor – my lips stretched into a wide grin.

Followed by Loki – my smile collapsed.

“Lady Scandal!” Thor exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here!”

Loki came to a stop next to his brother, looking as displeased and sour as Thor looked gladdened and welcoming. He rolled his eyes, then cocked his head and examined me. It was a short but tense silence, during which his lips slowly arranged themselves into a mocking smile. For some reason, that look grated upon my nerves more than usual. There was something that I was forgetting. Something that he was silently taunting me about. Something that had happened recently – as recently as…

_Yesterday._

“You!” I shrieked. Thor and Clint looked at me in equal parts confusion and alarm.

“Me,” Loki’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Me, me and me.”

“ _You!_ ” I spluttered, unable to get any further.

“Yes, use your words, sweetling.” Loki cooed.

“You lied to me!” I cried.

“No.”

“You said you were confined to your apartment!”

“I am.”

“You failed to mention that you were _allowed_ to leave your apartment for three to four hours each day to work out!”

“Did I?” He asked, not trying very hard to sound innocent. Even if he had been trying, however, if there was one thing this man was incapable of doing, it was acting innocent.

“Yes! You lied to me by omission!” I spat, my fists begging to connect with that smug face of his.

“Oh, dear,” He looked at me, wide-eyed. “Did they forget to tell you? I am the God of Lies.”

“What are you two bickering about?” Clint spoke up.

“Nothing.” I growled, too embarrassed to let Clint in on my stupidity.

“Why so shy, little one?” Loki crooned. “Tell Barton how you so _ardently_ leapt to fight in my name and defend my honour.”

“Oh, so, it is ‘little one’ in front of the others now, is it?” I asked, pointedly avoiding anything else that he’d said.

He narrowed his eyes. “You are much pluckier when surrounded by your superheroes. Let us see how much of that pluck remains come Monday.”

“Doesn’t it get boring, man? Always threatening and belittling people?” Clint intervened, as he stepped closer to me. “Don’t you feel like taking up gardening sometimes?” Without giving Loki a chance to answer, he turned to me and asked, “What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing, I was being silly,” I mumbled.

“Scandal,” He stared me down and I relented.

“Fine. He said that Tony had confined him to his apartment after what he’d done at my interview. I thought that he meant that he wasn’t allowed to leave his apartment _at all._ I decided to speak to Tony about letting him out and Tony told me that one, he wasn’t confined 24/7 and two, he rarely left even if given the choice. So, yeah, I was an idiot.” I said, crossly, then whined, “I just felt bad, okay?”

“Brother, why are you so dismissive of someone who wishes to take your side?” Thor asked, softly.

“She does not wish to take my side. She merely wishes to advance her own selfish and ignorant ambitions.”

Thor scoffed, “Loki, you are no one to preach about selflessness and being free of ambitions. If you cannot accept that she is on your side because she truly wishes to be, then at least accept that you are still benefitting from her actions. Whatever her reasons, she is still fighting for you.”

“I do not need anyone to fight for me.” Loki bit back. “I have fought my own battles all these years and I certainly do not need anyone’s help now, least of all a mortal’s.”

“By the Ginnungagap,” Thor swore. “Why are you always so prickly, you fool?”

Before any more Asgardian family drama could unfold, Clint interjected. “Are you two going to start training or are you going to keep clucking like hens for the rest of the morning?”

The talk of training markedly changed Thor’s mood. “Yes, it has been far too long since we properly sparred, has it not, brother?” He asked as he made his way to the mat.

“What can I say? I am not a fan of the way you grunt and smell like a bilgesnipe.”

“You would, too, if you dared to exercise your muscles rather than resort to tricks.”

Loki opened his mouth, but snapped it shut before he could make a retort. Instead, a sour smile worked its way on his lips. “I would not challenge a man who has survived impalement at the hands of a cursed Svartálfar, but you never had much for brains anyway. But, no matter. I cannot but consent to fight on your terms. No seiðr. My knives against your Jarnbjorn.”

Thor hesitated before Loki prompted, “Surely, you do not need the power of Mjölnir to aid you against a Loki without seiðr?”

At that, Thor chuckled. “Brother, I do not need Mjölnir even when you do resort to seiðr. Nor do I require the Jarnbjorn. I shall fight with one of the replicas of my hammer that Tony has added here.”

Loki smiled thinly. “Then, let us begin.”

This was sibling-rivalry on an entirely new level and I knew I would never find inner peace until I’d seen what had come of this god-tier pissing contest. I doubted the show _Vikings_ could ever hold a candle to the live alien soap opera playing in front of me. It was adorable that these gods, who were over a thousand years old, were no less petty than two under-ten year olds fighting for the TV remote, however much they claimed otherwise. And, it was downright exciting to see what a god fight would end up being like.

Thor must have sensed my excitement, for he sauntered over to me and said, “You are welcome to spectate, Lady Scandal. Perhaps it would help you become less afraid of my brother.”

Loki, who had directed his attention to the weapon rack at the other side of the mat, swiveled around to glare in our general direction. I turned to look at Clint, a silent plea on my face.

“Why not,” He remarked. “I dare say you’ve earned a treat. You _are_ going to enjoy this.”

I grinned and Thor went to the rack to select one of the replicas. Loki stood in the centre, resting his weight on one leg. His attention was focused on his knives, one of which he was casually stroking and the other that he was flipping at the same time. He had no eyes for anything else, but he was acutely aware of anything and everything that was happening around him. Despite the concentration he must have been exerting, his stance was at ease. He looked more relaxed toying with his knives than any other time that I had seen him.

Thor walked back, having chosen his weapon. The brothers nodded at each other, smacked one palm against the other’s and began their duel.

I hadn’t seen many fights, but even my inexperienced eyes could make out the difference between this and a ‘regular’ fight. There was a vitality in them that simply could not exist in a mortal. My own clumsy movements from the past hour threw into sharper relief the precision, dexterity and strength of their attacks and defenses. Thor was, for want of a better word, glorious. Simply glorious. The momentum with which he threw himself into every attack was unnerving, but he had fantastic control over his strength. I had thought that acquiring musculature such as his would require sacrificing agility and finesse, but he had proven me wrong.

The opposite was true as well. I had equated leanness with agility and finesse, but Loki was showing that that did not mean giving up strength. While Thor chose to crowd in his opponent, Loki chose to deploy more guerilla-style tactics, leaning in one moment and backing away the next, but not before delivering a little nick to the ribs or a punch to the solar plexus. He was fast and graceful and could have put a ballerina to shame. So quick were his movements that I had to keep twisting my head to keep up with them both, until Loki was all I could focus on.

Today, he was wearing a black tee and slim black sweatpants. It was the first time that I had seen him in 21st-century-Earth clothing. It was surprising to see him in something so simple and unfettered as a tee and sweatpants. Even at his most casual, he had always worn uncomfortable-looking Asgardian garb. He had worn those clothes well enough, but I had definitely not expected to see him carry off Earth fashion so effortlessly. I had seen Thor in Earth clothes and most of the times he looked more like a homeless person than a superhero. But, Loki looked as if he was modelling for the clothes; the pants defined the length of his legs and the tee showed off the hard contours of his torso. The black may have been too stark for his complexion, but it brought more attention to how surprisingly well defined and toned his pale arms were. He had always reminded me of Professor Snape - lean, mean and greasy. It was clear to me now that Loki was, at the very least, more athletic than Snape.

I turned my attention down to his hands and watched the flicks and turns of his wrist. He held the knives in an almost relaxed fashion, as if they were not separate entities, but extensions of his hands. I trailed my eyes up again, this time to his face. The damp ends of his hair were plastered rather artistically to the side of his face and showed off the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline. I followed the drop of sweat that ran down his forehead through the centre of his nose. A small, petty part of me wanted to punch him in the face because it wasn't fair just how lucky he was to naturally have such a perfectly straight nose.

Suddenly, Loki’s face disappeared from my line of sight. He ended up was on the floor with one of Thor’s knees on his chest and his hammer right above his face.

“I yield.” Loki said, hoarsely.

I stared blankly. I was so preoccupied that I had not realised the fight was over. Clint began clapping and it took me a second or two to snap out of my haze and start clapping as well, less enthusiastically than Clint. He walked over to Thor, who promptly began showing off his swings and strikes. I reached down to pick a bottle of water that Clint had brought, only now becoming aware of how thirsty I was. I tipped the lip of the bottle into my mouth – and that was when Thor took off his sweaty shirt. I pressed the bottle more firmly against my lips, not trusting myself to not make a noise if I were not constrained. As the water gushed down my throat, I watched the sweat hug and trickle down those magnificent abs. I gulped again and again, desperate for the water to cool me down. I couldn’t turn my eyes away and my gulps became even more frantic as my gaze travelled down to his V-line. I was halfway through the bottle by now and was going to end up peeing on the spot – whether from the water or the excitement or both, I knew not – but I couldn’t stop.

Suddenly, the bottle tipped higher and grazed my teeth and lips painfully. I made a sound of protest and the water ended up going down my wind pipe. I coughed furiously, tears streaming from my eyes at the pressure. The remaining water slid down my chin on to my chest. The bottle fell away and once I'd got over the worst of my coughing fit, I whipped around to the side.

"Oh, dear. You have wet your shirt."

Loki.

_Of course._

“ _You_ wet my shirt!” I snapped, trying to not look too obvious as I brought my hands up to my chest. By then, I could feel my top beginning to cling uncomfortably to my skin and my nipples hardening. I squarely wrapped my arms around myself, for that was clearly the lesser evil. Clint and Thor turned to look around and I flushed even more with embarrassment. Great – my shirt was wet, see-through and my nipples stood to attention as three guys surrounded me.

Loki – _of course_ – looked supremely pleased with himself. Yet, he still managed to sound bored as he said, “You were ogling my brother.”

I glared at him in disbelief. “Did you see that?” I asked, loudly. I turned to Clint and Thor, almost forgetting to keep my arms in place. “He tipped my bottle and wet my shirt!"

“Loki,” Clint sighed. “How long is it going to take you before you realise your PR is not your punching bag?”

“Oh, do forgive me,” Loki said, politely. “I thought the letters P and R stood for ‘punching representative!’”

“Don’t act cute.” Clint barked.

“I apologise on his behalf, my lady,” Thor said. “He’s just frustrated that I’ve bested him in close combat – again.”

Loki and I both rolled our eyes, but for obviously different reasons. “It’s not your fault, okay?” Thor really needed to stop apologising for Loki.

He and Clint kept an eye on Loki, but didn’t move any closer. Loki was still staring at me and I turned back to face him. “What?” I snarled.

He merely smiled gleefully.

I whined, “Why are you always so horrible to me?”

“What have you done to deserve any different?” He asked, indulgently.

I rolled my eyes again. “You’re just taking out your anger at losing on me.”

“Maybe. But, maybe, I was getting sick with watching how you, like every other wretched mortal woman on this prick of a planet, were undressing him with your eyes.”

“Why are you so upset?” I retorted. “At least, I wasn’t ogling you!”

Loki’s smile turned into a dangerous, sly smirk. My heart began pounding; that look never boded well. He inclined his head towards me, eyes slightly hooded and whispered, “Were you not?”

I inhaled sharply. Before I could open my mouth to form a semi-coherent reply or dissolve into garbling, Clint came to my rescue. I was practically shaking with relief as he said, “That's all we got time for today, Scandal,” and began leading me away.

Just before I stepped out of his reach, Loki bent down to whisper, "We will continue this conversation on Monday, little worm." His fingers lightly grazed my wrist. I snatched my hand away as if his touch had burned me and marched out, focusing on putting one foot forward rather than the heat in my cheeks.

I didn’t bother saying goodbye to Thor, for I knew Loki would be staring at me, judging and analysing my actions and storing them away for future humiliation. The weekend was nowhere close to being over and I was already dreading Monday. Loki was going to be insufferable and he was not going to let me live this encounter down. Clint and I walked in silence as my brain went into an overdrive creating talking points for the upcoming 'conversation'. My shirt was still wet, but he was tactful and decent enough to not bring it up. It wasn’t long, however, before I sensed him looking at me intently.

“What?” I muttered, tired of being stared at by all these superbeings. This really wasn’t what I had meant when I had said I wanted more male attention.

“Do you have a boyfriend, buddy?”

“What?” I asked, taken aback.

“Whoa, easy,” He laughed. “I’m not hitting on you, don’t worry.”

“No,” I said, unsure if it was the right answer. “Why?”

“Just curious. We require that SHIELD recruits do not have any significant others during their trainee period, because it creates a lot of distractions. But, you’re not a SHIELD recruit, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or whoever you like, really.”

“Sure,” I said, just as uncertainly as before.

He kept looking at me intently.

“What, Clint?” I asked, now thoroughly annoyed.

“It would be good for you to have a nice boyfriend, kiddo.” He said, trying to sound casual. “He’ll keep you… distracted.”

“From what?” I snapped, more heatedly than I meant to.

“From the pressures of your work…” He shrugged. “And… well… from Loki.”

“What?” I came to a stop and rounded on him.

“Look, I’m not judging you,” He began, gravely. “And, I don’t want to stereotype, but what I’ve seen is that young women tend to be attracted to the ‘bad boys,’” He made air quotes, “And, god knows that Loki is all that and more. He can be very charming when he wants to. Especially when he’s bored and wants to create chaos.”

“Why are you bringing all this up?” I asked, agitatedly. Had he seen me going glassy-eyed over Loki as well? I was never going to live this down, was I? The best thing to do would be to hand in my resignation. That way, I would be under no obligation to wake up for a workout tomorrow morning.

He had the decency to blush. "I just got the sense you were very invested in the fight," He said, more tactfully than even I could have. Of course, he didn't need to say it but it was obvious that he had noted my delay and reluctance in clapping for Thor. I shouldn't have been surprised; the man was called Hawkeye, after all. Still, it was irritating and infantilising on his part to assume that just because I _might_ have been checking out Loki, I was going to make heart eyes at him.

“Thanks, Clint." I said, tetchily. "I was just watching the fight. I didn't mean to give you any cause for worry. Rest assured, I’m not planning on dating a psychopath anytime soon."

I knew I wasn't being fair because he had my best interests at heart, but what annoyed me even more was that he wasn't completely wrong. I had never had much patience for bad boys, but there was no denying they had a certain charm. Still, what the hell was I doing fawning over two aliens, and one of them a psychopath, at that?

"Oh, come on, dude. I'm not saying you were going even come close to something like that," He said, reproachfully. "Look, just think of it this way: work-life balance is important. You need a way to unwind and a way to let that asshat not get to your head. Trust me, I know all about having your head messed around with."

I softened my expression and nodded. "See you tomorrow, same time?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Have a good rest of your day. Try to catch some sleep if you can!"

I rolled my eyes and made my way back to my room, desperate to take a shower and get some much needed time to myself. Needless to say, I wasn't going to be checking out any man, leave alone a god, for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score: Reader - 1; Loki - 3
> 
> Urgh college is killing me, which is why it took so long to write this chapter. Also in this house we love and appreciate Clint Barton, so buckle in for that. I hope you like it??? Please let me know if you enjoyed it. Let me know if I delivered or not. And thank you all so much for all your comments and kudos on the last chapter. You all (Ragna)rok!


	10. That Time We Evaluated Job Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward doesn't even begin to describe things between you and Loki. You begin to wonder whether there is any point in sticking with this job.
> 
>   
> 

_“No one can help you now, worm.” Loki declared._

_“Please, please, no, I’m sorry!” I pleaded._

_Loki tutted at me. “I know you are… but you will be far sorrier by the time I’m done with you.”_

_“Please, I’m sorry.” I began sobbing._

_“Do you know what you did wrong?”_

_“Yeah,” I sniffed._

_He bent down to my height and gazed into my eyes. His expression was as steady and controlled as his voice, but there was no denying the lurid satisfaction simmering beneath the surface. “You know you are to call me ‘sir’ at all times, do you not?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Good.” He stood up straight again and began circling me. I kept looking straight ahead, sensing that following him with my eyes would only make matters worse. “Now. What did you do wrong?”_

_“I forgot to bring you your frappuccino with whipped cream,” I wept._

_“That you did, little worm. I must punish you now.”_

_My breathing became erratic and my eyes darted wildly about his apartment, done up exclusively in white. It was some Norse version of 50 shades of grey – 50 shades of white, perhaps. Sadly, I didn’t see any gratification – delayed or imminent – for myself. The only person who was going to get off this was Loki. A murmur escaped my lips, but I quickly silenced it, lest it gave him any further cause for annoyance._

_“Because you forgot to bring me whipped cream,” He thought out loud, “I will whip_ you.”

_“AGENT ROBSON!” I cried, now unable to restrain my anguish.  
_

_Suddenly, Robson materialised. My knees almost gave way from relief. But, my joy was short-lived, for he said, “You are his Lackey, after all. You must do whatever he says.”_

_And with those damning words, he promptly disappeared._

_“Loki,” I sobbed, as one final plea._

_“Hush, little worm.” Loki crooned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a snake-like whip appear in his hand. Correction, it_ was _an actual snake. I screamed in horror and he brought it down on me, but my body didn’t ache. Only my head hurt – perhaps that was from the ringing of the whip._

_Vaguely, I wondered, what whips – or snakes – rang when brought down upon their target._

_RRRING RRRING_

_The headache was worsening._

_RRRING RRRING_

_“I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “Please!”_

_RRRING –_

I woke up.

By the time I had managed to turn off the alarm, the dream had already faded away. The only thing I remembered was that it was about Loki.

Of course, it had been about Loki. That man had begun consuming every thought I had throughout the day. I woke up dreading how he was going to torture me each day. I couldn’t buy coffee anymore without envisioning his stupid smirk in my head. Whenever I worked out, I found it hard to forget that I was sweating my ass off because of him. Before I went to sleep each night, I prayed to Thor to break Loki’s nose or split his lip or powder his teeth – anything to wipe the smugness off his face.

And boy, had there been a lot of that lately.

I had entered his apartment on Monday, anticipating all the humiliation he was going to heap on me, but prepared to deflect it no matter what. I had given him his caffeine fix for the day – caffe mocha with three espresso shots – but refused to look into his eyes or say even a word to him. The tables had turned now; it was I who was refusing to talk this time. Of course, my stoniness only deepened the smugness in his expression. He kept smiling at me throughout the week, looking equal parts insidious and mischievous. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to unsettle me into being the first to speak. And, if I did speak, I would start a game that I knew I was only going to lose. Sadly, avoiding humiliation wasn’t strong enough an incentive, so I bribed myself with a dinner at Tavern on the Green if I managed to remain silent. It wasn’t easy, but the prospect of good food convinced me to hold my tongue the entire week.

I should have known, however, that Loki wasn’t going to back down.

I hadn’t thought it possible, but Loki amped up the creepiness come next Monday. Whereas last week, he had contented himself with sending me smug smirks and slimy smiles a few times every hour, now he began staring at me without stop.

Tuesday began on a particularly bad note. He began staring at me since I handed him his coffee and had not stopped grinning at me since then. I tried concentrating on my book, flipping the pages more harshly than I should be, as if loudly turning them would snap the grin off his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly, deliberately sipping his drink. The bastard even had the nerve to lick his lips, flicking the tongue way more flamboyantly than he needed to. I blinked, trying to regain my concentration. The words had long stopped making sense and I realised I had been reading and rereading the same page for the past five minutes. Then came another curl of the tongue and I lost it.

“What?” I snarled, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my frustration.

“Lady Scandal,” He said quietly, his voice dripping with mockery. Coming from Thor it had sounded cute; coming from Loki it sounded as sonorous as phlegm.

My head shot up and I glared at him. The amount of satisfaction and malicious joy on his face at my cave in almost made me weep. It thew me off. It was too similar to something I vaguely remembered seeing. It wasn't a leer, but for some reason it struck me as being almost sexual. With a start, I realised that I had seen that look in some weird context all too recently. Bizarrely, the Starbucks logo came to my mind and then I remembered.

_Frappucinos. Whipped cream. Whipping._

My dream from last week.

I averted my eyes in panic to the clock behind him - thankfully, it showed our hour was almost up. I had managed to successfully suffer in silence for most of the time. I was not going to be able to treat myself to a fancy dinner, but it was still a small victory. But I didn't care about that now, for my priority was to hide my face away. The bastard had no idea what was wrong, but I feared that somehow, he'd be able to see my shame on my face and put two and two together.

He cocked his head, his gaze challenging me to kick up a fuss.

I sunk into the sofa, more out of a need to hide myself than out of a sense of ease, and asked tersely, “Yes?”

He had the gall to look affronted. “Where is the respect? Where is the courtesy, _my lady_?”

Of course, my dream chose to replay itself in all its dirty detail in my mind at that moment.

_You know you are to call me ‘sir’ at all times, do you not?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Stop it,” I said out loud. “ _Sir_.” It was a mystery how I had managed to not gag on the word.

“Stop what, _my lady_?” He grinned.

“Calling me ‘my lady,’”

“Come, now, _my lady_ ,” He pouted. On anyone else, the pout would have looked childish. On him, it only looked callous. “You complain I am always horrible to you, but now that I am being nice to you, you want me to stop giving you the respect you deserve.”

“How about you show your respect by calling me by my name?” I said, surly.

“Oh, but you were so enthralled when my brother called you that,” Loki said, pleasantly. It set me more on edge than any unpleasantness of his could have. “Why can I not call you that? Would you not like that? Would that not make working for me more enjoyable for you?”

“ _Nothing_ can make working for you enjoyable.” I said, sharply. As soon as the words left my mouth, I squeezed my eyes shut and cursed myself. I bore no love for him, but I hated how shrewish and perpetually harangued I was becoming.

He reclined into the back of the sofa, looking at me coldly, face pinched and paler than normal. “If you think that your time here has been less than pleasurable, then you do not know the meaning of misery, worm.”

“I think it’s time for me to leave. Have a good day.” I said, hurriedly and got up, for I had no wish to enact my dream in real life. A part of me chided myself for taking the easy way out instead of smoothening over things, but I was past caring. Over the course of the past two weeks, I had slowly but surely realised that this was how it was always going to be between us. The mutual hostility, his lack of respect, my unease and our disregard for each other were not ever going away. I was in the fourth week of my job and what had I to show for my efforts? Nothing. A big fat nothing. All I had done these past weeks was bring Loki coffee and lose my peace of mind. There was nothing I could do while Loki was restricted to his rooms. Even if he was allowed to go outside, he wouldn’t ever be allowed to exit the Tower and he and I would continue to simmer in our mutual hatred.

I wasn’t ready to quit yet, but I had begun strongly considering it. I didn’t want to continue earning a salary when I was not deserving of it. More than that, I feared that Tony and Stella too would become aware of just how useless I was and would ask me to consider resigning. And, this time, I wouldn’t be able to bully my way out of it.

“No.” Loki commanded.

I turned around in surprise. He had never stopped me from leaving. On the contrary, he was indifferent most of the times and relieved in others when I said my goodbyes.

“Yes?” I asked, carefully. A small part of me was relieved that he wasn’t done with me yet. It gave me more wiggle room to get things (relatively) back on track.

“Dispose this cup.” He extended it towards me. I walked back towards him and took the cup from his hand. There was no expression of amusement on his face anymore.

“Okay. See you.”

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, harshly.

I stared at him, baffled. What had got into him? “What do you want, sir?” I asked politely, hoping it would be enough for now. I resolved to try harder and get over my silly act tomorrow. I was acting like a stupid puppy who was easily seduced by a pat, but I couldn't help it.

“My books are in disarray,” He waved his hand towards a row of immense rosewood bookshelves to one side of the living room. “Sort them alphabetically. Clean the bureau as well. It is dismaying how you Midgardians can read and write on such filthy surfaces. And wash the plates in the kitchen too. That idiot woman they send to take care of the domestic chores is even more incompetent than you.”

I stared at him dully. Any feeling of relief that had swelled in me was now deflated beyond measure. I said nothing; there was no point. He had just cemented my tentative decision. He was not going to change, so there was no point in continuing in this vein. I was going to quit the job anyway - why not resign myself to this latest humiliation, save my energy and go out with quiet dignity? He looked at me expectantly, probably anticipating my huffing and puffing. I turned away and walked up to the bookshelves and the bureau, willing but unable to check if he looked surprised at my lack of indignation.

The books – numerous as they were – took long to sort, but it was an enjoyable task. My feeling of disenfranchisement did not stop me from going over their titles. They spanned a broad spectrum of topics – from as mundane as history and linguistics to as esoteric as astrobiology and alchemy. Surprisingly – but thankfully – they were in English, so at the least I was spared the added shame of having to ask Loki for help. The bureau and the dirty dishes should have taken me longer to clean but I did not care for perfection. I was still his PR, not his housekeeper, and if he wanted to throw a tantrum about me not properly cleaning what was already spotless anyway, he could go ahead for all I cared. I did not have any fucks to give him anymore.

I felt his eyes on me every second of the way. I made a beeline for the door as soon as I was done, not wanting to entertain him for a second longer. Fuck him and his villainy and sadism. Fuck him and his attitude. Fuck him and his fucking frappucinos and whipped cream and crazy coffee orders. I was  _done_. I did not meet Agent Robson’s eyes as he escorted me back to my office. I assumed they were questioning and pitying in equal parts, but I did not feel the need to address either of those emotions. Once in my office, I fibbed to Stella about the day’s rendezvous, as I wasn’t keen on letting her be privy to my latest chastisement.

Then, I started working on the resignation letter.

* * *

“Is he a vampire?” Tony asked.

“What?” I blinked. He had called me up to his office to catch up with me. He had kindly provided Cheez-Its, Pringles and Cheetos – breakfast of champions. I wouldn’t have minded sampling some of his liquor selection, but we stuck to fruit juice.

“Loki,” He amended. “Is he a vampire?”

“N-no?” I asked. “Wait, is he?” I asked, alarmed.

“No, kid, he’s not. Chill. In case nobody told you, Vampires aren't real.”

“If Norse gods are real, then why not vampires?”

“Well, he does play the part of Edward Cullen very well. Tall, dark, diva, pale, constipated-looking.”

I snorted. “Well, I can assure you, I’m not ‘unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.’”

Tony shuddered. “Don’t even joke about it, Scandal. The notion is terrifying, and not just because Clint would hack off my head if that ever came to pass.”

“Clint? Why?”

“Oh, he has still not warmed up to me subjecting you to Loki. He was more upset than I was after I heard about your first day, and that’s saying something!”

“He's been waking me up at 6 on the weekend, you know,” I said, not a little petulantly. “To train me in self-defense.”

“Yeah, he told me. He’s surprisingly protective.” Tony mused. “How's it going?”

“It's alright. I am a klutz. He keeps making me start a circuit from the beginning in case my form drops. And he insists I should work out every day.” I wondered if Clint had told him about me checking out the Asgardians and having my water bottle tipped. I hoped he hadn't. It was bad enough for him to call me out on it, I didn't want Tony to hear about it as well.

Tony grunted. “Be glad it’s him and not Nat. She doesn’t know the meaning of ‘going easy.’”

I grinned. “Speaking from personal experience?” When I had first started the job, I wouldn’t have dared to be so chatty with Tony. But, now as we became more comfortable around each other and it became clear his sense of humour revolved around making borderline personal jabs, jesting with him became second nature.

“The first time I saw her, she tossed Happy in the air and choked him with her legs. So, yeah, you can say I have personal experience.

"Whoa," I whispered.

"I do remember going more like 'oh my god!' than 'whoa!' when that happened, but I excuse you."

"I wish I could do that. Clint said he might ask her to teach me how to defend myself in a dress and heels."

"Clint doesn't know when to stop."

"He's not bad; he's not a taskmaster and he knows and respects my limits. And, I really appreciate it. He doesn't have to spend so much time on me, but he does."

"He's a good man. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. You’ve been looking dead, kid."

“Thanks!”

“I’m serious. Loki _might_ not be a vampire, but it's clear he has been sucking the life out of you."

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” I didn’t tell him what had happened yesterday. And, obviously, I didn’t tell him about the resignation letter that I had started drafting – or rather, attempted to draft. Years of getting B+ or above in all my college papers and this is where my writing skills had come - barely being able to type two lines.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Tony leaned forward across his desk, “And I think you’re right.”

“Right. About…?”

“About Loki. About how I need to let him out.”

I gawked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a horrible decision. But, that’s precisely why I’ve planned to go ahead with it. I have to keep up my reputation, after all.”

“Tony… are you sure?” I asked. While I had mentally torn up the as yet computer-based resignation letter as soon as I had registered the words, I wasn’t sure if unleashing Loki on the Avengers Tower was a good idea. I knew that he had had access to the penthouse before my arrival, but I didn’t want to be blamed should something inevitably go wrong.

“Nope,” He said, cheerfully. “But, you made sense. Sure, you were mistaken about Loki being this poor little angel bean, but you were still right. There’s no point in doing PR if you’re not going to show your face. He’s still not going to set foot outside the penthouse, but I guess we will have to eventually set up the stage for his grand arrival. And, anyway, he hadn't been too bad when he had the free reign of the penthouse - but don't tell anyone I said that.”

“What about the rest of the team? Do they know?”

“Well, considering they live there and have a chance of running into Loki, they will get to know eventually.”

“Are you planning to tell them, though?” I asked, unsurely.

“I suppose I should,” He sighed, “We’re a bit… jumpy. But, no need to tell anyone other than Stella, okay?”

I nodded.

“Oh, and some ground rules. You will have to notify the SHIELD agents if you wish to take him for a stroll and Robson will still accompany you. This is more for your safety than anything else, so no arguments will be accepted. This isn’t new to the agents, so they know how to stand far away to not make you feel uncomfortable, but close enough to rush in should anything happen. And, I’m not going to blame you for any shit he conjures, but you can’t leave him alone when you’re out with him. That doesn’t mean you stand next to him at risk of mortal peril,” He added, “But, if you want to pee, you either hold it in, or send him back and then dash to the toilet. Try not to pee on the spot, however; the carpeting is expensive.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha!”

Tony grinned. “Off with you, kid. Have a good one and keep me posted!”

“You too!” I said and began making my way out.

“Oh, and, Scandal?” He called and I turned around. “Don’t let him get you down, okay? There’s still a long way to go and you’ve barely begun. Don’t let him make you feel you’re useless – it’s exactly what he wants and thrives off. We can’t let him win, you got that?”

“Aye, cap’n!” I saluted and walked out with a bitter smile. It wasn’t Loki’s opinion of me that made me so despondent. Still, Tony’s words had given me the tiny bit of reassurance I needed to keep going. I’d rather disappoint him by not succeeding than by giving up before I'd even begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score: Reader - 1; Loki - 4.
> 
> This chapter was a little bittersweet with asshole!Loki, but the next chapter should be fluffier and much more fun. Thank you to all the readers for all the kudos and the 2000 hits! You guys make it all worth it =)


	11. That Time We Had a Power Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You invite your client to a power lunch. What could possibly go wrong?

It was noon when I went to Loki’s apartment the next day. 

“You are late.” He greeted curtly as soon as I stepped inside. He had left the sofa today and looked as if he’d stopped midway in the middle of pacing up and down the room to reprimand me. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture as ramrod straight as always. The severity of his stance somehow made him seem even more irate.

“Yes, I am, sorry,” I said easily. 

He cocked an eyebrow and turned fully to survey me. “And, you have not brought my coffee. Must I teach you another lesson in obedience, worm?”

That sounded uncannily like something out of my dream and it was not easy to keep myself from flinching. “It is noon. I wasn’t sure if you wanted coffee at this hour.”

He took a step towards me. “It is not my fault you are here at noon rather than the hour we had agreed.” 

“I was just –”

“Quiet,” He raised his index finger. “I did not give you the permission to speak.”

_Breathe,_ I told myself. _Don’t lose you temper again_. 

“Can I speak?” I said, more patiently than I was feeling.

He blinked, thrown off by my question and tone. It only took him a fraction of a second, however, to school his face into a neutral expression. “No.”

I shrugged. Though his mask did not slip, I could sense that he was bemused.

“You do not keep a Prince of Asgard waiting, little worm.” He said, silkily as he came another step closer. “However, I am a merciful god,” He continued. “And, you have been a good little worm – for the most part. Tell me why you are late. I warn you, I will accept no feeble reason, so make it a good one.”

“Well, it’s not like you enjoy the coffees anyway,” I couldn’t help but quip. “Does caffeine even affect you?” My colleagues had told me about one party when all the guests had bet on how much caffeine Thor could intake before dying of a heart attack. All the coffee in the entire Tower had run out, but Thor stood as happy and steady as ever, albeit with atrocious coffee-breath. 

“We have an agreement.” Loki hissed. “You come, you bring me coffee, we play a little game and then, you leave. Of course, your incapability to bring me a decent a beverage is vexing, but that does not excuse you from your duties. You have already seen what happened when you kept me waiting. You do not wish to undergo that again, do you? Or if you do,” He took another step closer and leaned forward slightly, “Then I can certainly oblige.”

Nope, too much like my dream. Way too much.

“You don't even like me, leave alone like having me around.”

"You are right. You are annoying and repulsive, but if I am expected to tolerate your presence, then you will come here, every day at the time we have agreed upon. Do you understand?" His tone had a weird edge to it - he almost sounded frustrated, as if he sought something that he wasn't sure he had. 

"Yes. Sir." I said, the words as heavy on my tongue as they had been in that nightmare.

“Good,” He smiled thinly. “Now, tell me why you were late.”

“I was organising a lunch for us.”

His lips parted slightly, almost preparing to ask a question, before he brought them together again. I took this as a sign to continue.

“I did it. I convinced Tony to lift your confinement,” I said, a wobbly smile creeping on to my face. I hadn’t thought of it in this way before, but it was true; I had won him over. 

“And, what do you expect me to do?” Loki sneered. “Crown you as my apostle?”

“No, come to lunch with me, please. I ordered steaks. You like steaks, yes?”

I had had to do a bit of asking around to find out what the Asgardians liked eating. Sadly, I wasn’t able to grill Thor, but Roisin from event management and a couple of others had hinted that meat was a good way to go. That bit of investigative journalism had taken more time than I’d thought it would, and then I had had to go and defend my idea in front of Stella. She hadn’t been convinced – and had been rather ambivalent about Loki getting his partial house arrest lifted – but had agreed when I told her that this was no different from agencies wining and dining their clients.

After that was done, I’d had barely any time to research the best steakhouses and order some food. The best places were obviously too uppity to be takeout joints, but it was amazing just how much you could get away with it when you did PR for Tony Stark. I rang up Gallagher’s Steakhouse and ordered a porterhouse for Loki and a tuna for myself. It was exorbitant and I had had a heartburn as I’d given my credit card details. I could have filed it under expenses, like I did for all the coffees. After all, money wasn’t a problem for the Avengers and Tony didn't run through my expenses. Still, my conscience – and, I guessed, Stella – would not permit filing such a pricey meal, that too for Loki.

The curiosity on Loki’s face returned tenfold. “Even if I liked the unappetising slabs of leathery meat you call steaks, why would I want to lunch with you?”

Good question. “Because it will be something different? From your daily routine, I mean.”

“I do not know about the others, but I do not allow worms at my dinner table.” He said, imperiously.

“That’s great, you don’t need to eat me. Just eat the steaks with me. Please." 

A flicker of amusement danced on his face. “You have still not satisfactorily answered my question.”

“It will be nice?”

“Not for me.”

“You haven’t even tried it.”

“Nor do I wish to.”

“Oh, please!” I whined. “Please, just humour me this once!”

“Well,” He declared eventually and rubbed his index finger against his lips, as if in thought. “Since you have asked so nicely, I will allow you to serve me lunch here.” 

That was surprisingly easy. I had expected he would demand a blood sacrifice or flat out say no. Why was he being so acquiescent? “I’ll serve it to you in the common kitchen.”

“No.”

“ _Please,”_ I begged.

“How many times must I say ‘no’ before it permeates that thick skull of yours?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” The words slipped out before I could think them through. I gulped, regretting everything from my birth and onward as that familiar worrying smirk etched itself on his face. 

“Anything?” He asked, silkily.

I gulped again. It was too late to take back the words. _It’s okay_ , I comforted myself, _just because I promised him ‘anything’, it didn’t mean I had to stick to my word._ It was an oath under duress, nothing more. “Anything,” I said, shakily. Is this how young, virginal girls felt when they made a deal with the devil in all those gothic romances?

He looked delighted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Do not make the mistake of presuming you can wriggle your way out of this,” He went on, the delight on his face utterly ruining my appetite. “If you do so, the consequences will be severe.”

“I won’t,” I whispered.

“Very well, then. Being the merciful god that I am, I will oblige you.”

_Thanks, Lord Voldemort._

“Thank you. Shall we?” I asked.

“After you, my lady,” This time, the words were not thrown venomously but, to my astonishment, in a teasing sort of courtesy. To my greater surprise, he even threw me a smile, the first I’d seen that was without malice or mischief. I inhaled jerkily and nodded, then responded with a smile of my own – the first I’d given him. 

I nodded at Agent Robson, who muttered something into his walkie-talkie, and then we walked out.

Immediately, the SHIELD agents flanked us, four on each side, two behind and two in front. Agent Robson walked alongside me. I looked at Loki from the corner of my eye, taking in his stride. He sauntered as if the agents were not his jailers, but his enforcers. There was neither cockiness nor fury on his face, only self-possession. He cut an impressive figure and though a part of me disliked how he could be so unruffled after causing so much misery, another part of me wished I too could carry myself with such confidence. We reached the top floor and the agents arranged themselves around the immense living room. Save for our party, the floor was empty, just as I had expected it to be at this hour. I stepped outside for a few seconds and returned with the goods from the delivery boy and a hefty credit card receipt.

Loki had perched himself on one of the barstools – the same one I had sat at my interview. I put the food in front of him and scrummaged for some glasses, plates and cutlery. It irked me to set up the table for him like an actual servant, but I reasoned that that was the kind of service he had always been used to. Anyway, it was too trivial a matter to start a fight over. I settled into my own chair, opened the packet, pushed his food towards him and prepared to attack mine. He did not touch his food, instead looking at it as if it would answer some existential question. I raised my head from my food, eyebrows high up my forehead in query. I didn’t want to start without him – bad manners and all that jazz – but I was starving. Finally, he pulled it closer and began opening it.

“I was debating whether I should make you serve me,” He said lightly, as he transferred the steak on his plate. “Then, I concluded that I do not want your wormy hands all over my food.”

I rolled my eyes, tempted to grab his steak and fling it on his face, but chose instead to pay attention to him. He stabbed the meat and began slicing it, his movements precise and graceful. I was no stranger to using a fork and knife, but somehow, he used his cutlery as if he had received special training for it. He brought the chunk of meat languidly to his mouth. I, on the other hand, hacked and sawed through my food and stuffed it into my face. On top of that, my hunger only made my movements clumsier. He repeated his motions methodically, his face displaying no interest or disinterest, or satisfaction or dissatisfaction with the food.

“Well?” I asked after a few minutes, “How is it?”

He swallowed the morsel down – I tracked the bob of his Adam’s apple – and looked at me coolly.

“If you don’t like it,” I gushed on, “You can say so. It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Why in Hel would I lie about my satisfaction?”

“Well, they told me you were the God of Lies.”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “Your attempts at humour are pathetic.” He scoffed, but I grinned, for I sensed that he was rather amused.

“Well? Did you like it or not?”

“It will suffice.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. Though this was the first time we were eating together, it wasn’t awkward. We had grown used to doing our own stuff in silence. I reached for my glass of water and almost tipped it towards my mouth before I remembered what had happened the last time I’d taken a drink in Loki’s presence. I angled my body away and kept an eye on him while I drank. He, of course, noticed and smiled at me innocently, but his eyes glinted with manic glee.

“Had a chance to worship my brother recently?” 

I shook my head. 

“No? Have you found someone else to adore?”

Oh, dear god, _no_. What were my talking points, again?

“No,” I croaked, my thirst all but gone.

“No?” He asked, thoughtfully. “I could have sworn there was someone.”

“Aren’t you – aren’t you curious why I was training with Clint?” I asked, trying to throw him off.

“Oh, that does not require much thinking. Agent Barton enjoys looking out for people. A terrible quality to have in an assassin.”

I shut my eyes. Why had I thought I could distract him? Obviously, you didn’t get to conquering a planet without being more perceptive and cunning than a rookie PR.

“You would have to try harder than that to distract me, little one,” Loki said, confirming what I was thinking.

“Worth a shot.” I mumbled.

Before he could frame a reply, a woman’s voice came through.

“Tony?”

I froze. Barely daring to look over Loki’s shoulder, I registered whose voice it was – Pepper's.

That wasn’t bad and I reclined in my seat. She would be surprised, alarmed even, but she knew that Loki was in the Tower. All my hopes and dreams crumbled to dust, however, when I saw another figure appear behind Pepper. I slammed my glass on the counter and leapt up from my chair, almost stumbling face-down when my foot snagged on the base of the barstool. I righted myself and skittered forward. I had to calm myself down. Loki was like a shark; one sniff of fear and he would set me down the trail of certain doom.

“Pepper!” I said in a quivering voice.

“Oh, hey! Have you seen Tony?" 

“He left. He’s in his office.” I lied. I very well couldn’t mention that she needed to leave in front of the other woman – her assistant, I presumed.

“I just came from there and there’s no sign of him,” She sighed. “Anyway, what’s up with you? What are you doing here?” She looked around the room and then her eyes stopped right behind me.

Her panicked eyes met mine and I silently urged her to leave.

“I’ll just check his office again!” She said, her voice significantly higher in pitch than two seconds ago. “Come on, Mary!”

She swiveled around so quickly on her pumps, she nearly twisted her ankle. I and Mary made a dash for her and helped her regain her balance. Pepper gripped Mary’s hand and almost began dragging her away when I heard Loki speak up from right behind me.

“Virginia,” He said, pronouncing ‘virgin’ more salaciously than anyone ought to have. 

I imagined I could hear her gulp as she ever so slowly turned around. “H-hi, L-” She stopped herself before she accidentally said his name.

Loki’s eyes shone and I knew that even if he hadn’t figured out the problem before, he had figured it out now.

“How are you?” He asked, smoothly.

“Fine! Fine!” She chimed. “I’m in a rush, sorry! I’ll catch you later!” 

“What is the rush, Virginia?” He again said her name in a way that would make the dourest matron blush.

“I need to find Tony,” She said, no steadier than before.

“He will find his way back to you,” He said. “Meantime, introduce your friend to me.” He glanced at Mary.

My blood ran cold. I was on the verge of hyperventilating any second now. Dimly, I wondered whether pretending to faint – or actually fainting, given how close I was to it – would get us all out of this situation. It might get me and Pepper out, but it would only get Loki off.

“Hi!” Mary trilled, to my mingled astonishment and horror. “I’m Mary! I’m Pepper’s PA!”

“Enchanted,” Loki murmured and, to my even greater incredulity, clasped her right hand and brushed his lips against it.

The brunette assistant giggled out of coyness, and I giggled out of nerves. Damn it, my brain wasn’t working! I saw Pepper trying to catch the attention of the SHIELD agents, but they were hesitating, preferring to wait rather than act in haste. I looked at Agent Robson, who was off to my far right. His eyes on me and his lips were moving in silence, deliberately, but I couldn’t make out the words. To my dismay, he gestured the SHIELD agents to stand down. I glared at him, my lips moving furiously as I pointed at him to come here, when Loki spoke up again.

“How are you, Mary?” Damn it, why was he saying everyone’s name as if he was recording ASMR?

“Oh, good, thank you! How are you?” She beamed.

My jaw dropped. Why was she acting so at ease around him? Did this woman not know to whom she was talking? And was she – heavens forbid! – _flirting_ with him?

“All the better for having seen you, my dear,” Loki murmured.

The girl dissolved into further giggles and I dissolved into silent hysterics. I was too consumed by my internal suffering to see Pepper’s reaction, but no doubt it was similar to mine. We were prepared for Mary exchanging greetings and going back to business. We were ready for Mary to start screaming in terror. Neither of us, however, was anticipating _this_ – whatever _this_ was. 

“What are you, the wolf from red riding hood?” I said weakly, surprising myself. I didn’t think I was ready to form words yet.

Loki didn’t even turn to me when he said, “The big, bad wolf, Red.”

I coughed loudly. The man was a walking-talking harassment suit – and that was the least problematic thing about him. “Pepper, Tony might be back in his office now.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” She said, gratefully. “Come, Mary.”

“Nice to meet you!” Mary grinned again. What was _wrong_ with this woman?

“ _Lovely_ to meet you,” Loki supplied.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She said meekly, “But, I didn’t catch your name.”

There was a split second of pin drop silence. Pepper stopped in her tracks, I froze and Loki’s grin spread from ear to ear. He inhaled, pausing for dramatic effect before he delivered the coup de grace. “I am L-”

“YEURCH!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and pointed in the opposite direction. Pepper and Mary jumped half a foot into the air and all the SHIELD agents sprang from the sides to the middle of the room, guns and other paraphernalia pointed in various directions – some at us, and some in the direction I was pointing. 

“Heheheheh,” I giggled like an imbecile. “Oh, oh, sorry. I thought I saw a spider. Huge. A huge spider. Sorry.”

My face was flushed and hot from both shame and dread. Everyone looked everywhere for no one knew what to do – except Loki. Loki looked at me, his eyes glinting with mirth. _‘Deftly done,’_ they seemed to say to me. 

Pepper – finally – took advantage of my diversion and hauled Mary out of the room. I was pleased to see Mary looked discomfited now, but displeased to see that it was more from the thirteen men with guns jumping to surround us rather than from Loki himself. My limbs continued to shake and sweat for a few more minutes, fists repeatedly clenching and unclenching as I tried to let go of the tension. Fortunately, the burden of taking the initiative was taken off me, when Agent Robson and the SHIELD agents placed themselves into formation and demanded cooperation in no uncertain terms.

The walk back to his apartment seemed to take lesser time than the walk from. My legs continued to tremble and I had to catch myself from collapsing on multiple occasions. Whereas he had not once looked at me during our walk to the kitchen, now Loki did not take his eyes off me. It was making me more jittery.

“I believe one of your Norse myths bears some similarity to the tale of this ‘Red Riding Hood,’” He began, conversationally, as if he had not just almost confessed his true identity to an unsuspecting assistant. “Þrymskviða, you call it. It tells the story of Thor disguising himself as a bride to reclaim Mjölnir. Of course, like most Midgardian tales, it is woefully inaccurate. Thor only dressed up as a woman to prove he could be a better woman than me, the pudding-head. Throughout the rest of the evening, I had to make excuses for his behaviour, much like the way the wolf tried to justify its poor imitation of the grandmother. Still, I would give much to see Thor in a bride’s gown.”

I looked up at him I disbelief. “Better woman than you? What?” 

“I have _many_ talents, little one.” He leaned closer to me, his eyes alight with mischief. “Maybe I will show you some of them one day.”

“Shut up,” I said through gritted teeth, simply _done_ with his bullshit and his Norse tales and his annoying borderline-flirtatious remarks. “Shut the fuck up!”

He drew back in displeasure. Before he could berate me, however, I interrupted.

“You almost ruined everything! Do you have any idea how much trouble we could have been in? Heck, we already are in so much trouble! That woman could have recognised you! What if she does? What if she goes out and tells everyone that you are here! Do you even know how much shit you’ve landed us in?”

“Do you think I care?” He said sharply. “Do you think I care what happens to you or Stark or any of this fool’s folly that the two of you are conjuring up here? Your band of misfits can keep me locked up in this hideous tower, but you cannot control me, wench! You can keep me imprisoned but you cannot still my tongue!”

“There’s no need for that!” I screeched, beyond reason now. “You’re so interested in Norse myths, so it’s only fitting that we sew your lips shut rather than still your tongue!”

Loki snarled and stepped closer to me. I stumbled back, but before he could do anything, Agent Robson stepped in front of me.

“Step through the door, sir.” He said, evenly. I looked to my left and saw that we were right in front of the apartment and the door was wide open. Loki glowered at me, his shoulders tense and hands curled into fists.

“You have disrespected me for the last time, maggot,” He continued, ignoring Agent Robson. “I am the heir to the throne of Asgard and the rightful king. You will not –”

“Any man who must say ‘I am king’ is no true king!” I roared. For a moment we both stared at each other in disbelief; he in shock about me having come up with the mother of all burns, I astounded I had actually quoted Game of Thrones to him in a totally serious context. I knew not whether the SHIELD agents understood the significance of what I had said, but they tensed, for it didn’t take a pop culture geek to figure out shit was going to go down.

“You _dare_ taunt me, Stark’s wretched footlicker?” He spat. “Very well. The next time you set foot in my room, I will teach you a lesson that will have you and your unborn spawn howling for generations and _nothing,_ not Stark, not Thor, not Barton, nor any god you invoke, will be able to save you from your fate.”

Rage and terror mixed and ran through my veins, almost making me dizzy with their intensity. I was worried he was going to cut through Agent Robson and all the other agents, but was that going to stop me from yelling at a genocidal god who had proven he would have no compunction about killing me with but a twist of his wrist? No.

“Bring it on!” I screeched like a banshee and attempted to launch myself at him. Agent Robson turned his attention from Loki to me and almost tackled me to the floor as I continued, “Do it! Do it! I will claw that stupid smirk off your face if it’s the last thing I do!”

Agent Robson had almost slammed me into the opposite wall to contain me. Loki smiled at me coldly and cruelly. Instead of instilling me with dread, however, this time his smile caused me to flay out even more like a woman possessed. I half expected him to pull Agent Robson off me and end my life right then and there, but without breaking eye contact, he marched through the door and slammed it behind him. I stared hard at the door, still kicking and panting, before Agent Robson gruffly said, “Enough!”

I stopped my struggle, exhausted. He let me off the wall and grabbed my elbow. “What the fuck do you think you were doing, miss?”

“What do you think I was doing?” I snapped.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” He warned. 

“Don't tell me what to do! Whatever happened to getting him out of there as soon as Pepper and that woman walked in? What were you doing then?"

"How do you think it would have looked if thirteen heavily armed men began escorting him away?"

"Better than it would have looked if he had actually managed to tell her his name!" I cried.

"Stick to doing PR, miss and leave the strategy and security to me." He ordered. "And if you ever talk to him like that again, I will pull you out of the room, kicking and screaming if I have to. I’m in charge of your security and I will not let you gamble with your life like that!” 

"Whatever!" I growled.

He stared at me incredulously. No doubt, he thought me mad for my lack of self-preservation. I really wasn’t suicidal and I had much better sense to kick the hornet’s nest, but there was something about Loki that brought out the worst in me. The day had been going so well. And, wonders of wonders, he and I had actually been bonding. But, of course, he had to ruin everything when it was going right for me.

Agent Robson took a deep breath and then began tugging me by my elbow, not ungently, but not softly either. “We are going to Stark right now.”

I nodded mutely; there was no use in protesting. The adrenaline was still coursing through me, almost numbing my brain to anything else. That, and the bizarreness of the situation were all that kept me from worrying about the tenability of my job once Tony got wind of what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score: Reader/Scandal - 2, Loki - 4
> 
> 200 kudos! Shout out to jessicagoddamnjones for getting me there! Also, you guys, thank you so much for all your support and enthusiasm. I also really appreciate your comments on the previous chapter. I absolutely welcome any and all constructive criticism, so if you feel something is off, please do not hesitate to tell me so. As a PR, I have to write for more than just as a hobby. If there's one thing I've learned while writing and rewriting endless news releases, theses, reports, essays, summaries and articles, it is that getting feedback is crucial to good writing. 
> 
> So, I will always welcome whatever comments you have - whether subjective or objective, whether satisfied or dissatisfied - about my writing. But, if you feel hesitant - no pressure =)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Think this was my favourite chapter to write so far!
> 
> PS: Þrymskviða is an actual Norse poem where Thor dresses as a bride, and Loki the bridesmaid, so that they can recover Mjolnir from the bridegroom. Thor is horrible at pretending to be a woman - he ends up eating an entire ox - and Loki makes excuses like "she's so hungry because she's been so excited that she forgot to eat for seven days".


	12. That Time We Made an Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both you and Loki get a little carried away in your dislike for each other.

“Now that we’re all assembled,” Tony began, maintaining intense eye contact with every single person in the room before staring at Loki squarely, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Thor, Stella, Agent Robson, Tony, Loki and I stood in a loose circle in the living room. Everyone looked at everyone, save for Loki and I. The two of us refused to acknowledge each other.

“The Midgardian harpy insults me and you have the audacity to chide _me_ , Stark?”

“The Asgardian _ass_ cannot behave himself!” I retorted.

“Go on, whelp. Give me more reasons to enjoy your extremely slow and gloriously torturous death.”

“Enough!” Tony barked. “You!” He pointed at me, and for the first time I saw his anger directed at me. “You will get your chance to speak, so zip it. And you!” He pointed at Loki. “Enough with the name calling!"

“Tell me, Stark: would you be chivalrous and courteous to your subordinate if she were to disrespect you every step of the way and threaten you with bodily harm?”

Tony looked taken aback but fixed his expression quickly. “We’re not talking about me here. And, you only get as good as you get. You may be a prince back home and expect people to kowtow to you even when you spit at them, but this is not Asgard.”

Loki raked his eyes over every inch of the room and said, with more condescension than anyone could ever muster, “That is evident.”

I rolled my eyes. His sarcasm was tempting me to make good on my threat. It had been two hours since lunch, but I was still charged up.

“Your current ‘public relations’ representative is more imbecilic than any of the previous morons you have sent my way.” He continued. Then, turning to face me , he said, “I congratulate you; that is no small feat, given that they all were asinine loons. However, they at least had the imagination to read the documents on me and understand that I am _not_ an Asgardian.”

“Same difference,” I said, callously. Even though I didn't know how Asgardians and the race to which Loki belonged were different, I understood that there were differences. Of course, now that I was pissed off with him, I did not care about any similarities or dissimilarities.

“It is _not_ the ‘same difference’, you beef-witted primate!” Loki growled through clenched teeth.

“Whatever,” I shrugged, taking no small deal of pleasure at how agitated he had become. I understood the reason behind it – the whole ‘finding out I’m adopted saga’ had been included in his files. “Guess I was right then; you are no true king. For, to be a king of Asgard, you would have to be _Asgardian_.”

One second, Loki was in front of me. The next, he was right behind me, my back flush against his front and a strange sensation on my throat. I looked down. Something silver was pressed against the skin: a knife, I realised dazedly. I should have been terrified out of my wits, but my brain was foggy. All I could think of was that I had never been held at knifepoint before.

“Loki, get the hell away from her or I will –” Tony began.

“Tony, no!” Thor interrupted. He turned towards us, leaned over slightly with palms held out. “Loki, please.”

“What say you, little worm?” Loki whispered in my ear, ignoring Thor, and I shuddered. “What? No more pretty words from your mouth? Not so outspoken are you, now? Tell me – should I cover your skin with a thousand cuts? Or, should I make a little nick around your jugular and let you bleed dry? Which would you prefer?”

I couldn’t even breathe, leave alone form words. There was so much tension in my body. It paralysed my limbs, squeezed my lungs and choked my throat. I wanted to speak. I wanted to cry out – but even if I could have, I had no idea what I should say. All I could do was stare at Tony, Thor, Stella and Agent Robson with wide, confused eyes that wordlessly asked how – or if – I was going to get out of this situation.

“Loki, I will have Mjölnir go through your head before I let you harm a hair on her body.”

“Really?” Loki barked a laugh. “Did you hear that, little worm? Thor wants to bash your skull into your brains with his magic hammer – because that is exactly what will end up happening if you attempt to do that,” He snarled at Thor.

“Loki, please.” Thor repeated.

I couldn’t see how Loki reacted, but I gathered it was not promising.

Thor inhaled, then exhaled. “Brother, _please_.”

Loki twitched and the knife shifted in position, causing me to twitch as well. “Do you really think calling me ‘brother’ would change anything?”

“No, it should not,” Thor replied, “For you are and have always been my brother.”

“I am not your brother.” Loki hissed.

“Yes, you are.” Thor insisted, sadly.

“No, I am not.” Loki countered, but he did not sound as firm as before.

“And, she does not truly understand,” Thor continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “She doesn’t _know_ , Loki. For her, it is just snark and repartee. Let her go.”

Loki’s breathing quickened and the knife distanced itself ever so slightly away from my neck. Still, he didn’t let me go.

“She is oblivious to our history and means you no more hurt than a startled creature retaliating in defense. Let her go, brother.”

A tiny shudder ran through Loki’s body. No one could have noticed it save for me. He wasn’t going to let me go, I knew it. He would kill me right here and now, if not at his torturous leisure, for there was no way he was going to –

Suddenly, I found myself on the floor. I looked up from my spot, startled. Loki was glaring down at me, though he did not meet my eyes.

“Remember the day my brother’s mercy saved your life, girl,” He said thickly. “And know that I would not be persuaded like so a second time.”

"Thank you, brother." Thor said.

"I did not do it for you!" Loki snarled. With that said, he turned around and began marching out of the room. Someone rushed over to me and helped me. Tony or Agent Robson, perhaps. I clutched him, feeling equal parts relief and confusion. Loki had actually let me go.

“Mr. Loki?” Stella asked, tentatively. I looked up to see her standing in his way. It was both an insanely brave and insanely foolish move, given that he was fresh off the heels of almost slicing my throat.

“ _Norns!_ ” Loki swore. “I am deluged with wretched mortals who have no idea what they are dealing with. Out of my way, woman!”

“Please,” She said, just as softly but more firmly. “Wait a little. Your PR has something to say to you.”

I did?

“I do not care for anything that wretched girl has to say. _Move_.”

“She wishes to apologise to you.” Stella said, quietly.

“What?” I rasped, having finally found my tongue again.

“Yes. She does.” Stella repeated without looking at me, her tone inviting no discussion.

“I –” I began, still not sure what I wanted to say. Clearly, while my vocal chords were back to work, my brain still had trouble ticking.

“Your conduct was unprofessional at best and downright insensitive at worst.” Stella lashed, finally looking at me. “You have not been given access to details about your client to turn them into personal attacks. How can you cultivate a favourable public image for your client if this is how you present yourself?”

“Stella, I have been –” I began protesting.

“No,” She raised her finger to silence me. “I am talking. Did you not once think to bring up whatever happened with me and Tony? Did you not once think about what a mess it would’ve made of things if the situation had escalated? Did you not even think about your own safety? We have tried so hard to make sure you are comfortable and well-adjusted in your job. Did you not think about all the effort we’ve put in?”

I hung my head, unable to meet her gaze any longer. I was biting my lip very hard, but I didn't care about the pain. Back in the moment, I hadn’t cared about my safety. The anger had felt too good – especially after the constant feeling of helplessness and uselessness. Now, however, when Stella contextualised it that way, every single point hit home harder than I would’ve liked.

“I’m not going to review your performance based on how old you are; I’m going to review your performance based on how well you did your job,” She continued. “I can teach you the ropes. I can guide you along the way. I can give you advice. But, I cannot change your temperament or teach you deportment. Your behaviour reflects badly on all of us and my team and I will absolutely not let the actions of one of my team members ruin my team’s and my clients’ public images. So, please apologise.”

I nodded and swallowed the painful lump in my throat. Unlike the last time when I had sassed Loki when I had told him he was too insignificant to punish, this time, I had fully intended to get under his skin. I had not expected, however, that I would hurt him to this extent. Professionally, I felt I deserved every word of Stella’s rebuke. Personally, I wanted to burst into tears about how she’d taken me to task. It was unfair how Loki always came out on top, even and especially when things were his fault. It was unfair how I wasn’t allowed to be angry, but he was allowed to be horrible. Most distressingly, a tiny part of me truly regretted my words. Stella was right: I had made it personal. I had been cruel in a way that even Loki hadn't been. It was simply not done.

I looked around the room. Tony was avoiding eye contact; this was the first time I’d seen him speechless. Thor looked sheepish, Agent Robson stared stoically into the distance and Stella looked impatient. Loki looked at me impassively. I could tell he was curious as to how I’d react. There was no enjoyment on his face at my humiliation. I hated that. If he had looked smug, if he had crowed over me, I could have muttered an insincere ‘sorry’ and been done with it. But now, I wanted to be sincere. I wanted to find the right words. Yes, I was still angry – he was cruel, mean and infuriating. But, for some crazy, twisted reason I did not feel angry at him. I was upset that I’d almost lost my life and clearly, his coping mechanisms needed even more work than mine did, but I grudgingly understood that he’d reacted that way not out of an impulse to have fun at my expense, but because he had been very hurt.

He had let me go not because it would have ended messy for him. As he had said earlier in the day and as I now completely understood, he may be under lock and key, but he wasn’t under anyone’s control. Rather, he had let me go because Thor calling him his brother had struck a chord with him. I had hit him where it hurt the most – however advertently or inadvertently – but the validation that Thor had given him outweighed any wound that I had inflicted. Distantly, I remembered the advice he had given me in my first week: prove your worth to yourself, not to anyone else. There had been just as much history behind those words as behind his actions today. He was not human, but he felt just as we did.

“I am sorry.” I said, clearly, looking him straight in the eye. I couldn’t find it in myself to be more articulate, but if I had ever been sincere, it was when I said those three words.

He regarded me for a long time. “I do not care for your petty words, little worm.” He said, flatly.

_Little worm._

I shivered as the last of the tension left my body. There was no acidity in his tone, nor a sneer on his lips. His voice was disturbingly lacking in any emotion, but I clutched on to that familiar insult. Despite my realisation, it was easier, of course, to believe him to be incapable of any kindness, regret and vulnerability than to accept that he was capable of any of it.

Without another word, he began making his way out, Agent Robson escorting him. I studied his retreating form. He was wearing Earth clothing again today – a white shirt and black slacks. These, too, he carried off well and I could see why Mary reacted the way she did. When he was dressed so, it was remarkable how human he looked. Maybe that’s why Mary didn’t recognise him. After all, neither was she expecting a supervillain to be crashing with the Avengers, nor was she expecting to see said supervillain in something as mundane as shirt and pants in lieu of his infamous green leather and gold horned helmet. In spite of the gloom of the situation, an idea began forming in my mind.

Then, Thor spoke up. “Thank you, my lady, for your words. You were brave in the midst of such censure.”

I flushed and looked away, embarrassed. Heartfelt apologies always sucked the strength out of you, and this was no different for me. As much as I loved Thor's kindness and gentleness, it only chafed at me right now.

Blessedly, Tony spoke up. “Okay, show’s over. Back to places everyone. Scandal, take the rest of the day off; there’s not much left of it anyway. We should meet up tomorrow, okay?”

I could hardly have said no, but I sensed he was trying to make me feel better. “Yeah.”

“9 o’clock, first thing tomorrow.” He said.

I nodded. Thor and he left for somewhere else together. I had no option but to take the elevator with Stella. Awkward elevator ride descriptions on Reddit had nothing on what I was going through right now. I looked at her from the corner of my eye, using my hair to shield my face. I half wanted to say something to her, and half didn’t want to. A big part of me felt angry at her, even though I knew she was in the right. Still, I wanted things to go back to how they were. For her part, she did not look eager to broach any conversation and walked out stiffly as soon as the doors opened. The doors closed and it took me a while to realise the elevator was not moving, for I had not pressed the button for my floor.

Just as I was about to press it, I remembered that my purse and phone were still at my desk. I debated whether I should go collect them. On one hand, they were my phone and purse. On the other hand, the prospect of walking into the office suite red-faced and having to act cool and casual in front of the rest of the team – or worse, running into Stella – terrified me. I reasoned I could return to the office to collect my belongings once it was past six. I could easily live without my phone till then and find refuge in Netflix. Glumly, I pressed the button of my floor and began the journey down. I realised if I were to be fired tomorrow and never be able to be a PR again, I could easily become an ideal subject for studying social anxiety.

I didn't take the rest of the day to finish my resignation letter, or rediscover my outrage, or drown in self-pity. Instead, I thought about how explosively vulnerable Loki had been, not unlike a cornered animal. I kept stroking my throat - more out of nervousness than actual pain. There wasn't even a tiny scratch there. Even when he had been more furious than I'd ever seen him, he hadn't lost control. It should’ve filled me with anxiety and fright, but all I could focus on was how I might be wrong – how there could be another side to Loki. I was still hoping that I had been right before, that Loki was incorrigible, but I couldn't deny that I wanted to be proven wrong.

* * *

 

“I’d offer you whisky, but I’m pretty sure Pepper added somewhere that I can’t share my booze when I and my employees are on duty.” Tony sighed. “Of course, she couldn’t get me to not drink when I’m at work.” He promptly proceeded to pour himself a glass.

“Not to mention, it’s only nine in the morning.” I mumbled.

“Your point being?” He drained his glass in one gulp and poured himself some more.

I looked at him curiously. He looked haggard. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever and there was a yellowish tinge to his skin. I tried to not jump to conclusions. “Tony… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He dismissed.

“Are you sure?” I didn’t want to overstep my boundary, but I was concerned.

“Damn it, Scandal, I’m fine!” He snapped.

I bit my lip and looked down to my lap.

He muttered under his breath. “Kid, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. His tone had stung but I didn’t hold it against him.

“You don’t have to look out for me, kid. It should be the other way around.” He said, gently.

“You don’t have to look out for me, either. But, there’s no harm in it going both ways.”

“It’s just the work. The stress. The usual.”

“Okay.”

“And then there’s you and Loki.” He sighed loudly.

“Tony, I’m –” I started.

“I know you are.” He cut me off before I had to say the words and I was grateful for that small mercy. “And I get it, okay? No one in this tower hates him more than I do. Funny thing is, Clint should be hating him the most, given how Loki played with his brain like it was Rubik’s Cube, but I am the undisputed president of the Loki Hate Club. And yes, sometimes I really want to smash that ridiculous helmet of his and gut him with one of the horns. But, here’s the difference: I can afford to do that. You can’t. What if you’d died, Scandal?” He said, hoarsely.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. It was one thing for me to believe I was in mortal peril – it was another for Tony to believe that I was going to die. Even in my state of terror yesterday, I had thought Tony and Thor would be able to get me out. Now, however, hearing him say that he had been just as helpless as me drove home the point that I had been in more danger yesterday than I had thought.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, shakily.

Tony stared at me in disbelief, then exploded, “You almost died and you’re apologising to me? _I_ should be apologising to _you_!”

“You don’t have to!” I said, hurriedly.

“Scandal, do you actually comprehend the extent of the situation yesterday? Robson was absolutely useless and I couldn’t do anything. _Anything_.”

“Tony…” I said gently. “I’m fine. That’s all that matters. Please stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I’m shocked he didn’t do it. It was sheer, dumb luck he didn’t go all Revenge of the Sith on you.”

“Thor talked him down.”

“Honestly, I should put Thor on the payroll. He should do Reindeer Games’ PR because he always takes his side.”

“That’s not really true.”

“I should fire you.” He said. Though that made me start, I knew he was just rambling from all the stress. “Well, maybe not fire you, but transfer you to Stark Industries. Pepper likes you, she’ll take you on!”

“I’m sure Stella would agree on the former.” I said, miserably.

“You don’t hold it against her, do you? Yeah, the whole ‘apologise-in-front-of-everyone’ was harsh, but you did go a bit too far. Not to mention, of course, you almost died.”

I nodded, even more miserably. I knew Stella was right. But, that did not stop me from hating her at the moment. I was being childish, but I couldn’t help it.

Tony sighed again and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You are too emotional, kid.”

I raised my eyebrows and couldn’t keep the indignation from my voice as I said, “ _I_ am too emotional? Tony, _I_ am the one who almost got knifed, but _you_ are the one who’s practically crying!”

“What do you expect me to do? Pop open a champagne your head is still attached to your body?”

I winced. “Tony, I’m just saying, you’ve already looked out for me so much. You don’t have to keep doing it.”

“It is my job to look out for you,” He grunted and gulped down yet another glass. I tried to keep the disapproval from my face, but probably failed. “Every boss should look out for their employee. Especially if the boss is an Avenger.”

“No boss looks out for their employee to the extent you do.”

“Oh, come on. If you were in my place and I in yours, you would’ve looked out for me the same way.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’d ever be so committed towards my team.” I replied. Then, to lighten the mood, I added, “Besides, you’d actually sass him so much that you’d be dead before I even found out about it.”

He raised his glass to me. “That’s true. Don’t be like me, kid. Stay alive.”

“Clint said something similar.”

“Listen to Clint. Don’t listen to me.” He drained his glass and added, “When he hears about what happened, he’ll kill me, I’m sure of it. Would be a shame if I let this whisky go to waste. Do me a favour, Scandal. Don’t go to Loki today. And, meet with Stella, won’t you? I think the two of you need to clear the air.”

"So... you’re… you’re not firing me?” I asked, smally.

“No,” He scoffed. “No. I’m the last guy to punish someone for being impulsive and emotional. Why, do you want to leave?” He asked, seriously.

I immediately shook my head.

He sighed again. “Not your brightest decision, kid. I should let you go. I really should, for your own sake. But, I feel you haven’t yet used up all your yellow cards. And, I am beyond surprised that Loki did what he did. Maybe his time here _has_ done him some good.”

I must have made an odd face, for he added, “I know, right? It’s weird. I’d rather see him as the supreme evil. But, I like to run all permutations and combinations. I think you and he can work out something new. Maybe. But, I am warning you,” He leaned forward and his gaze became hard. “If you even _think_ about sassing him or making fun of him again, I _will_ fire you. It’s not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because you are worth much more than he is.”

I nodded solemnly.

“Now, is there anything else?”

My heart pounded. “Yes… But, I wanted to bring it up with both you and Stella at the same time.”

“Well, talk to my PA. She’ll fix something up. Have a good day, kid.”

“You too!” I got up and left his office and made my way straight down to my office. I entered the suite, flustered, trying to gear up for the truly painful part. I went up to Stella’s cabin and knocked timidly.

“Come in!” She called.

I gulped and went in. Her expression did not change when she saw me. As much as I wanted to be away from her, I also wanted to mend things between us. She had been harsh when she had made me apologise publicly and I held that against her, but I also understood it had sent out the right message. And, at the end of the day, I wanted my mentor back.

“Can we talk?” I asked, fiddling with my thumbs.

“You will have to make it quick; I have a meeting in 15.”

I licked my lips and nodded.

“Sit.” She said, crisply and looked at me expectantly.

I took in a breath and began. “I wanted to say I am sorry. I am sorry for my conduct and for how it reflected badly on you and the rest of the team. It is especially unfair to you because you have invested so much time in me even though you didn’t have to. I am really, really sorry.”

She stared at me for a long time. I wilted from the sharpness in her eyes. Just as I was beginning to think she wasn’t going to say anything and began getting ready to excuse myself, she spoke.

“I remember in your interview you had talked about the power of words. About how words can make and break a reputation and shape opinion. That had impressed me. I had thought that you understood intrinsically what some people only learned after years of working or studying, and more commonly, what most people never learned. Words are powerful. Words are long lasting. But, you misused them. You used them to your detriment and to everyone else’s. So, I wonder, did you really mean what you said in the interview?”

I realised she wanted me to answer. “I did. I am sorry.”

“You could say sorry a million times to a million people, but it would change little. Whatever effort you had made has already been washed away. We are even further back than we had started. Let me tell you all the things that could’ve gone wrong: you could’ve died and Tony and my team would’ve been traumatised. Tony, especially, because I know he loves acting as a father-figure to you. Your family and friends would know no believable reason behind your death. Amidst the trauma of losing you, I and my team would have had to do something horrible like give your close ones false closure or hide the truth.

"Likely, it would have failed. Sooner rather than later, people would have found out what happened and no one would have trusted the Avengers ever again. In your interview, you had mentioned how the Avengers were subjected to negative scrutiny and you wanted to change that. Well, guess what? You would have brought them nothing but the harshest criticism and everyone irreparably damaged reputations and peace of mind.”

“I am sorry.” I repeated, not knowing what else to say.

“Are you?” She asked, tiredly. “Are you, really? Can you put aside your anger and impatience and frustration and learn to see the other side of the story and play to someone’s strengths? Because, if you can’t, then you are neither truly sorry nor are you in the right profession.”

“I will try. I will do whatever it takes. Please, give me another chance. Please.”

Stella shrugged. “Try away. I really don’t see what you can do now.”

“There must be something,” I pleaded. “Please, help me. I promise I will do whatever you say, as you say, I swear it.”

“I genuinely don’t know and I do not have the time right now to think about it.” She stood up and began putting on her suit jacket. “I can only suggest that for now, you stop visiting Loki each day and let time pass and egos mend.”

I nodded. “Yes, of course. But... I also had something else in mind.”

She said nothing but gestured for me to go on.

“I would like to discuss it with both you and Tony at the same time."

She picked up her phone and scrolled through it. “I don’t have any time today and the only times I’m free tomorrow are 8 in the morning and after 7 pm tomorrow. But, since it’s Friday, Tony will not be available after early evening, if at all throughout the day. Work it out with his PA and let me know.” She said and left without another word.

I shot his PA an email and after some discussion and much cajoling, Tony agreed to meet at 8 am tomorrow. Though the apologies and reprimands had stripped me off my strength, I felt a small twinge of excitement. I opened my laptop and cracked my knuckles. I had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The score's still 2-4 to Loki, because nobody won in this chapter. This chapter got WAY more angsty than I was originally planning. But hey, at least Scandal's learning to see Loki as something other than an alien asshole.
> 
> I've been having too much fun with asshole!Loki but I had to force myself to start segueing into showing Loki's more emotionally damaged and nicer side. Also oh god, all the Irondad. I'm almost enjoying writing Irondad more than Loki lmao. If you found this chapter too angsty, the next chapter will be more fun!
> 
> Did you guys like the character development? Did you like the pacing and the emotions and the dialogues and monologues? I live for feedback. Also, given that next week is Thanksgiving week and most of you are going to be away/bonding with family, would you have the time to read a chapter? Or should I defer it to two weeks later? Let me know! =)


	13. That Time We Pitched an Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You pitch an idea to Tony and reflect upon a very long rollercoaster of a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone whom I may have promised very important Loki-Reader interaction in this chapter... please forgive me. The next chapter WILL contain that, and if not, I give you permission to come kill me.
> 
> Also, this chapter is the longest so far at 5.3k words. Hope you don't mind! :o

“Stella,” Tony began slowly, “Have I had too much to drink, or did I hear her correctly?”

Stella shrugged. Poor man. It was too early in the morning for the whammy of my outrageous proposal.

“Thank you both for agreeing to this meeting.” I had begun. “I really appreciate your support and mentoring. I want to pitch an idea. The day before yesterday, when I and Loki had lunch, Pepper’s assistant, Mary, saw us. She did not recognise Loki. In fact, she was very much at ease around him. In fact,” I had added with a shudder, “She was even flirting with him. There are multiple reasons this is possible. First, public memory is short. People tend to hyperfixate on a crisis for the period immediately following it and social media drags in people who are actually unaffected but still participate in the discussion in a snowball effect. When, six months or so have passed, people lose their ability to immediately recall that crisis.”

“Scandal, this isn’t a ‘United Breaks Guitars’ crisis we’re talking about.” Tony cut in, sharply. “This is a destruction of a city. 9/11 still lives in our minds today and this is ten times worse than that.”

I had almost glared at him when he had interrupted, but softened my features once I had cottoned on to what was bothering him. “Yes, it is. But, if you chat with any random passerby on the street, chances are they will not remember the attack with the potency with which you do.”

He opened his mouth to interrupt again, so I added, “And, that is a testament to you and the Avengers, because you took such good care of the people and the city and brought it up and running within a few months. You also exposed the government’s hypocrisy, so there was no one to foster the feeling of hatred and intolerance that followed 9/11. Most of the city does not think about it actively and most of those people have moved on.”

He scowled, but did not disagree. I continued, “Second, no one knows what Loki is like. They probably imagine him to be someone like Hitler, and they’re not wrong! But, even Hitler wasn’t evil personified. He was an animal lover. He made art. He flirted with his wife. People think Loki grinds puppies in an alley –”

“Who’s to say he doesn’t?” Tony protested.

I scowled. “Okay, maybe he does, but you and I both know there’s more to him than that. He can be polite, charming and articulate – none of which you’d expect from a supervillain.” I had to try hard to keep my face neutral as I said that.

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. “What else?”

“Lastly, people know of Loki only by name and photos and videos. They will recognise him, but only if he is wearing that green and black leather and gold armour and the over-the-top helmet. If, however, he is in normal clothes like us, say, a sweatshirt and pants… well, no one will think of Loki the alien tyrant from Asgard in his oh-so glorious armour.”

“Uh, we recognised him in Stuttgart when he gatecrashed that museum gala in fancy dress clothes.”

“Well, first, he was deliberately preening in front of the camera because he wanted to be caught. And second, you and SHIELD were in hypervigilance mode. But, the ordinary person isn’t.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Tony had said with rising impatience. “So what’s your point, kid?”

I took in a deep breath. “So, the reasons why I believe Mary didn’t recognise him are: first, the Battle of New York is at the back of public memory; second, people think Loki is cartoonishly evil and cannot appear friendly or charming; and third, no one can visualise Loki in earth clothes.”

“Um, I think Mary didn’t recognise Loki because she is an idiot and Pepper needs to hire a better assistant.”

“Maybe,” I grudgingly agreed, “But, you can’t deny that the reasons I’ve mentioned are valid. So, here’s my idea: let us put Loki in situations when he is in company of civilians to test this theory.” 

Tony declared, “Not happening!” at the same time as Stella spoke up, “To what effect?”

The pounding of my heart worsened as I clutched on to Stella’s question. “Well, if we are to improve Loki’s public image, we need to see how the public reacts to him. And, we need to gradually get him in front of the public, otherwise there’s no point in working on his public image.”

Stella gazed at me shrewdly and asked, “Suppose your theory were to be true. What then?”

Ah, that had been the part I really did not want to answer, because I knew I would have to sacrifice a lot of children to Satan for this particular wish to come true. “Then, we let him hang out at one of Tony’s parties.”

Presently, Tony recovered his wits and exclaimed, “ _Absolutely_ not happening!” 

“Tony –” I began.

“ _No_ , Scandal, we are _not_ discussing this!”

“Tony, please!” I begged. “You hired me for a reason, didn’t you?”

“I did, but it was not to unleash Loki on the city again!”

“No one’s unleashing him!” I cried, almost stomping my foot like a child. “I’m not even asking you to have him interact with anyone – that is far too dangerous. I’m just saying: let us study what people’s reaction to him in a highly controlled and secure environment is going to be like! Put a SHIELD detail around. Get someone from the team to be there!”

“I’ll tell you what the reaction is going to be like,” Tony said sharply, “Terror and rage.”

“But, Mary –”

“Mary is one isolated case! You cannot –”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “That is why I’m proposing we repeat this with some other people. Think of this as an experiment!”

“Urgh, I did not believe you could be this naive, Scandal!” He clutched his hair. “And you!” He barked at Stella, who looked unfazed, “Why aren’t you jumping in and saying how ridiculous and preposterous this is?”

“Tony,” She began measuredly.

“ _No_!” He tuned on to her tone. “Not you as well! Tell her! Do your PR thingy! Tell her of the crisis when someone recognises him!”

“Tony,” She repeated firmly. “Yes, on one hand, it will be the mother of all crises if this plan were to fail –”

“Aha!” He yelled triumphantly.

Stella glared at him, but he took no note. “As I was saying, it will be extremely challenging should someone realise his true identity. _However_ , on the other hand, I theoretically agree with Scandal.”

I inhaled sharply, equal parts shocked and relieved, but Tony butt in.

“Theoretically; but –”

“And, we won’t know practically until we test it out.” Stella ground out. “Tony, reforming Loki’s public image was _your_ idea. Getting Loki to eventually join the team was _your_ idea. Agreeing to let Loki live here after Thor promised you can study Asgardian technology and alien biology was _your_ idea. So, stop arguing for the sake of arguing and own it up. We are here doing our jobs, but if you cannot bear it when we are doing our job, then either find someone else to do it, or end this farce altogether.”

Tony’s face was pinched with anger, but he took in a deep breath and tried to speak calmly, “But, what of the crisis, hmm?”

“ _What_ of the crisis?” She said. “Every day he is in this Tower is a potential crisis. I don’t care if he’s under lock and key and chained to the wall, we have still had to prepare a full-fledged crisis plan should he manage to escape or be identified. Would you rather wait for that to happen, or would you rather take control of the situation and do things your way at your time?”

“Okay! Assuming we do as you say, and assuming we have him chaperoned – what if he goes berserk? What if behaves like the ass he is? Scandal,” He turned to me quickly, “How can you take his side after how he’s behaved with you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and clutched on to the last of my patience. “Isn’t that why you’ve hired me? To be his PR and take his side?”

“I don’t mean you to become the Iago to his Jafar, for god’s sake!”

This time, his joke did not amuse me. On the contrary, it sharpened my frustration. “Tony, I think we both saw day before that Loki is not entirely unreasonable. And, though he is hardly a good person, or even a decent person, he has become better since that one time he commanded a bunch of people to kneel because they deserve to be subjugated. I – thankfully – did not know him then, but it is easy to see that that man and the man today are not the same.”

“He only didn’t kill you because he knew we would’ve handed him his ass!” He retorted.

“No, Thor talked him down and we all know it, don’t deny it. And, he doesn’t care about whatever you do to him. He is confined here but we all know he doesn’t give a shit about that. He will do what he wants, so it is in our best interests to cooperate with him when we can.” 

“How can you take his side like that?” Tony asked, outraged. “Have you forgotten what happened two days ago? Have you forgotten that you almost died?”

“I have not, so stop reminding me about that!” I yelled. “I have not, okay?” I added, softly and rubbed my hand over my face. “Tony, we can’t compare trauma and I really don’t want to, but I too have experienced terror at his hand, okay? And if I, a civilian, with no special talent, no genius intellect, no combat training can still find it in myself to argue for him, then can’t you at least consider my idea?”

“Scandal,” He groaned and came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Kid, there is no appealing to or appealing for Loki’s ‘humanity.’”

I shook my head. “I’m not –”

“Enough.” Stella stated firmly. “Tony, as your PR, I strongly advise you to consider this proposal. This is your chance to evaluate if you truly want Loki to eventually become a part of the team. With reasonable measures, we can ensure this idea can be safely executed. If you do not accept, then you should evaluate whether you are still enthusiastic about bringing Loki on board. And, if you are not, then you should at least recognise that Scandal has far more to offer than dancing attendance on that man. Come on, Scandal.”

I looked at her dumbly, not wanting to leave this unsettled.

“Come,” She urged, and I had no choice but to accept. I threw Tony one last pleading glance before we exited the office. Once outside, Stella let out a long sigh and turned to face me.

“That was a good pitch.” She said.

I blinked. “Thanks…” I said, highly surprised.

“A little wordy, I admit. Tony has the attention span of a goldfish. And, you took a while before connecting it to the main point, although that can partly be blamed on Tony’s interruptions. But, still, good job.”

“Thank you, Stella. It means a lot to me. It really does. And your support as well.” I gushed.

She let out a small smile. “A shame Tony never took a class or two in crisis communication. What you said made sense and it is about time we let you do something other than serve Loki coffees every day.”

I nodded eagerly, but then sobered. “Do you think he’ll come around?”

She sighed again. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Tony isn’t unreasonable, but he can be very stubborn. He has this peculiar gift of being able to accept and even agree with the other side’s argument, but still furiously stick with his own.”

“If I may ask, why did you pull us out before we could convince him?”

“Because we wouldn’t have been able to convince him. He needs to convince himself. Everything that was directly related to the argument had already been said and we’d started going in circles and tangents, missing sight of the real issue. If he is to accept, then these arguments would be enough. And if he is to not accept, then really, there’s nothing that can change his mind.”

I nodded again and a long silence fell over us as we began making our way back to the office. “I wish he says yes.” I said, not willing to let the conversation drop now that Stella and I were, at least temporarily, back to speaking terms.

“I wish so, too. But, in the event he doesn’t, I would urge you to consider your position here. You have had some unique experiences here, but ninety percent of those have been experiences you could do without. There is more to PR than being caught in a tug of war between Tony and Loki.”

I thought back to the resignation letter that I had begun but not finished. Stella was right. There was more to PR than being trapped in this battle of wills. As it was, I’d already spent almost five weeks here with nothing concrete to show.

“But, forget about him for now. I want to have a chat with you.”

I looked at her curiously. Just yesterday, she had looked as if she could barely stomach the sight of me. Now, she had just defended me in front of Tony and wanted to talk to me? Well, I wasn’t going to say no.

Once we’d settled down in her office, she asked, “Do you want anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

I blinked at her stupidly. Her behaviour kept getting weirder and weirder. I thought over the options she’d given. I was too keyed up from the meeting, so coffee wasn’t the best idea. And, I wanted something for my soul, not my brain. “Tea, please.”

She made us both our drinks then settled down. “What’s the matter? You look shocked.” She asked, pleasantly.

“What? Oh, nothing. Nothing.” I said, trying hard to not slurp.

“You’re shocked I supported you.” She observed.

There was no point in hiding. “Well… yeah.”

“Why? It was a good proposal.”

“Thank you.”

Stella relaxed further in her chair. “You think I will never take your side and Tony always will.”

I flushed and ransacked my brain for a response.

“I know I was very harsh on you the day before and yesterday and I’m not sorry about that. If you do something good, it makes me proud. If you do something bad, it makes me upset. It goes both ways because you are in my team. And, believe it or not, I have my team’s best interests at heart.”

To my horror, my eyes started watering. I blinked furiously, hoping she’d not noticed, but knowing my luck, probably had. “Thank you, Stella.”

She nodded slowly. “Tell me honestly: why are you still sticking with this job?”

“I – I” I fumbled, thrown away by the question.

“I’m not judging you.” She said, carefully. “I just want to know. This may be easier said than done, but I want you to talk to me not as if I were your boss, but someone random.”

“It’s a great opportunity.” I said. I was surprised by how monotone I sounded.

“Is it? Really?”

“Yeah.” I said smally.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.”

“What do you like about it?”

I licked my lips. “Well… it’s great… working for Tony Stark. He’s a great mentor. I get to observe the work the Avengers do and I get to help them at it, however indirectly. I get to meet so many fascinating people every week. It’s great.” 

“What else?” She asked patiently. 

“It’s awesome.” I said weakly. “I get to hear so many cool stories. Make connections.” 

“Yes, it is an awesome job, isn’t it?” She said, ever so gently.

That was what broke me. I did what I hadn’t done in five weeks of being abused by an inhuman boss, what I hadn’t done once since my first day, what I should have done when I was almost sliced into two.

I started weeping.

My body convulsed with sobs and the tears raced down my face and fell on legs. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from making a noise, but I wouldn’t have cared if I had. I was oblivious to everything except the anguish that poured out of my eyes and heated up the rest of my body.

“Oh, my dear,” Stella whispered. She came up to me and cradled my head. I longed to fling my arms around her. I longed to hug and be hugged, but I dared not. I shifted my head, trying to not wet her shirt. She soothed me and patted my head. Gradually, the strain left my body and I focused on just getting the tears out. Once the worst of it was over, she let go and offered me a bunch of tissues.

“Thanks,” I said, shakily and tried to blow my nose as discreetly as I could.

“I think you needed that.” She said, finally, once she’d sat back down in her chair. “You have been so highly strung.”

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“Why stick with something that makes you so unhappy?”

“I was so lucky to get this opportunity,” I whispered, my eyes wide and red. “I want to do right by it.”

“But, what is the point of doing right by it if it makes you so unhappy? Why do something that burns you out so much?” She asked, gently.

“What else can I do?”

“You are young. You are skilled. You are committed. Do something that makes you happy. Don’t get burned out at the beginning of your career.”

“But, I want to do PR.” I sniffed.

“There are so many places where you can do PR. In all my years in the industry, I’ve never met a person who has not found a job in under six months.”

“I don’t want to give this up.”

“Why not? Why bang your head against a wall when all it will do is hurt you?”

“It’s an excellent opportunity,” I protested, weakly. “Working for you and Tony Stark. And… you’ve been such good mentors… I owe it to you.”

“No,” Stella said firmly. “You owe us nothing that takes away so much from you. We are just doing our job. And, I know you are very loyal towards Tony and that is great. Loyalty is invaluable. But, loyalty should not mean you stop being objective. You’ve been here for almost five weeks now. You should ask yourself: Am I getting what I expected out of my job? Is my boss helping me to meet my goals? Do I have a good work environment? Do I feel my career is on a good trajectory?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I should.”

“No matter what happens, no matter what Tony says, promise me you will ask yourself these questions, okay?”

I nodded.

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

I nodded, glumly. The words passed my lips even though I didn’t mean them, even though I understood that they were right and made perfect sense. I hated myself all the more for that. “I will.”

She sighed loudly, rightly unconvinced by my promise. “Well, then. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

I stood up quickly, eager to get out of her office as soon as possible. Now that my emotions had stabilised somewhat, I was steadily becoming mortified that I had cried in front of my boss. “No, thank you, Stella. I'm sorry."

"What for?"

I looked at her unsurely. "For... for _this_."

"Are you apologising to me for letting out some steam in a healthy way and being honest with yourself?"

Well, when she put it liked that... "No," I said.

"Good. You have nothing to apologise for."

I smiled weakly. "Thank you, really. I appreciate it. I really do.”

She smiled sadly. “Have a good day, dear.”

“When do you think we’ll hear from him?” I asked, just before I left. 

“No idea.” Stella shrugged. “It should be soon enough, though. Tony never takes long to make his decisions."

* * *

   
We heard from him that very night, or rather, early Saturday morning.

“FINE” He had written in his email, “We’ll run this ‘experiment’ – but Scandal stays OUT OF IT and DOESN’T MEET LOKI during this time. I want this to be completely objective.”

A week ago, I would have whooped for joy and celebrated with a couple of glasses of wine. Now, I felt disinterested in the outcome and downright annoyed by Tony’s words. A week ago, I would’ve thought fondly of his protectiveness. Now, I found it suffocating. What did he think I was going to do? Give Loki the Key to the City? But, he already thought I was on that road. He had mentioned, earlier, yesterday and well before that even, when I’d first appealed to him on Loki’s behalf, that I was getting too attached to Loki.

Whatever I felt towards Loki, ‘attached’ wasn’t it. During the following week and the week after that, while Tony ran my experiment in secret and I was forbidden to visit Loki, I got some much needed breathing space. I slept properly for the first time in weeks. Instead of puzzling over what obnoxiously customised coffee I should buy for Loki each morning, I bought something sweet and simple for myself. When I had once only grudgingly accepted writing press releases and maintaining media lists, now I eagerly took on those tasks. Despite their mundanity, their predictability reassured me. Weekly workouts and weekend ones with Clint, despite the latter being held at tortuously early hours of the weekend, became more fun, for I almost forgot that Loki was the reason why I was taking part in them.

Clint had, understandably, been upset with me. He had given me a stern talking to, letting it known that he had expected me to be smarter and more self-preserving than that. He pushed me harder than ever that weekend. But, by the end of it, he had forgiven me and we were back to being friends again. 

Things reverted to normal with Agent Robson as well. He had cornered me on Friday itself, after I’d slipped out of the office for lunch.

“Miss…” He began, not half as steady and still as usual. “I don’t even know how to begin.”

“’Miss?’” I joked, trying to deflect the topic. “Since when did you start calling me that when we’re not in earshot of someone else?”

He clicked his tongue. “I can hardly call you ‘Lackey’ when I’m trying to apologise to you.”

“Hmm, that sounds fair.”

“I –” He began and I cut him off.

“What, do you want to join me for lunch?”

“Stop trying to change the topic!” He grumbled.

“Okay, okay! What’s up?”

“I couldn’t protect you. I am sorry.” He said, unable to look me in the eye as he usually did, “I couldn’t stop him. You were so helpless and I –”

“Let’s not, okay?” I said, gently but firmly, fed up with how everyone tried reminding me about what had happened, as if I were not there. “And I’m sorry, too, for snapping at you.”

He shook his head vehemently. “That was nothing. You were doing your job. Me, on the other hand –”

“I will forgive you if you forgive me.”

“There’s nothing for me to forgive.”

“And,” I continued, deliberately, “If you take a coffee to _him_ every day – and charge it to me, of course – I will forever love you for it.”

He closed his mouth, looking at me in confusion. “Pulling out the big guns, are we?”

“Damn right.” I grinned. I detached my ID from its holder and handed it to him. “Here. Just get creative. Come up every day.”

He took the ID, frowning at it. “You can’t seriously be considering going back to him, can you? Miss –”

“We’ll see,” I said, shutting the topic down. “Could you please hurry? I need the ID to buy food from the cafeteria and I’m starving.”

He looked at me unsurely and pleadingly. I met his gaze, challenging him to object. Then, heavily, he said, “Sure thing.”

“Thank you, Agent.” I beamed at him.

“Just call me Robson, kid. No need to be so formal.”

“Yay!”

“Alright. See ya in a bit, _Lackey_." 

I made a face at him and ducked back inside to wait. He came back soon enough and I strayed from asking him what – if any – reaction Loki had had. This, too, went for the following two weeks.

As a result, those two weeks were the best I had had so far. But, when I was not enjoying the Wine-and-Dine Thursdays and Lunch-and-Learn Wednesdays, or Fitness Tuesdays and Massage Mondays, I became consumed by guilt. I wasn’t upset with my happiness because I was slacking off, for I was working as hard as ever. I was upset because my happiness sprang from not having to do my intended job. Life was good for once precisely because it was Loki-free, even though Loki was my job.

As I relaxed and got more time to think, I also became more exasperated with how much of an utter _sap_ I’d been. I still maintained that it was possible that there was more to Loki than the asshole I’d become familiar with the past few weeks, but it was unbelievable just how emotional I’d got about it. I hadn’t even given a thought to myself in the heat of the moment. I’d almost got my throat slit. I’d been _this_ close to dying.

The version of me that had first walked into Loki’s apartment had reacted so much more explosively to Loki’s manhandling. She would’ve been horrified at his most recent treatment – and beyond shocked at my passiveness. Maybe I’d become so used to living in a constant state of anxiety and paranoia that any sort of shenanigans from Loki – however life-threatening – appeared to be part and parcel of normal life. It was good, then, that I had got this break to reevaluate my life. It gave me time to recover, shake off the stress, and made me realise that my reaction hadn’t been normal – just like grabbing a knife in fear when I hadn’t known it was Clint knocking on the door hadn’t been normal. And, while I didn’t regret my apology or the depth of its sincerity, I needed to take be easy on myself.

And, I had also been very, very tired. By the time that ill-fated lunch had rolled around, it had already been a long week full of ups and downs. I had swung from worrying Loki was going to tease me, to washing his dishes, to wanting to resign, to coming back to give it another shot, to threatening Loki with bodily harm and finally being threatened myself. Stella was right as well. I had become so used to just sitting around in Loki’s den that I had become delirious with excitement when Tony gave me permission to take Loki out. I should’ve had that power from the beginning. Loki needed to be visible for his image to be managed. And even if I hadn’t had that power, getting it shouldn’t have deterred me from resigning. Still, that ship has sailed – for now. I only wished I would look at things more coolly and objectively and put myself in the right headspace when making decisions from now on.

In hindsight, it had probably been the worst week so far – and that was not including the knifing episode. So, when Tony summoned me and Stella two weeks later on Friday, I hoped things would get better from here.

“So, I ran this ‘experiment,’” He scowled.

My heart lurched.

“And, yeah, no one recognised him.” His scowl deepened.

I felt I could breathe again. 

“It’s almost as if _a lot of_ people don’t that they almost died!” He exclaimed. I knew by the inflection in his voice that it was also a jibe at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I had _finally_ made use of something I’d learned at university.

“We let some people ‘slip in’ during times that Loki was out and about. Didn’t let them interact. But, yeah. It was just like you said,” He commented, bitterly. He didn’t miss the happy look I sent to Stella and the encouraging one she sent me. “So, what next, kid?”

“Let him attend your party on Saturday.”

Tony chuckled sharply and then said, “Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Are you mad, Scandal? Three or four people not recognising him is one thing, but exposing an entire room full of people? Not to mention what damage he could do?”

“If you can trust him around me and believe Thor when he says that Loki’s magic has been restrained, then why not let him come?”

“I don’t trust him around you!”

I looked at him open-mouthed, trying to not launch into a tirade. “Tony… a party is the best way to start doing PR and –”

“Oh, come on, there are so many other ways to do PR!”

“Like what?” Stella interjected. “Do share. I’m listening.”

He groaned. “Not you too!” 

“I agree with Scandal.” She said firmly.

“Of course you do!” He said, sourly. 

“Tony,” I began slowly. “I can’t do ‘public’ relations if there is no public. And, I’m grateful for all your support and for giving me this opportunity, but if all I have to do is fetch coffee, then I really don’t see the point of me continuing to work here.”

He glared at me. Then, he began muttering under his breath. Finally, he spoke. “Alright! Fine! Bring him to the party on Saturday! And if he even blows his nose, Scandal, I swear to god…” He trailed off, shaking his index finger furiously at me. “Anything else?” He snapped.

“Yeah!” I said, willing myself to not quail under his anger. “He needs clothes.”

“Has he taken to walking around naked now?”

“No!” I exclaimed and squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to not envision that.

“Then what?”

“I meant, he needs nice clothes. Party clothes.”

“Fine! Dress him up as Him from Powerpuff Girls then!”

“Tony,” Stella warned.

Trying to keep myself from breaking my serious expression and bursting into laughter, I asked, “Tony, why do you even know about Powerpuff Girls?”

“What? A man can’t have hobbies, now? Anyway, he’s got the whole androgynous look down.”

He had a point. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the suit.”

“Fine,” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll call up someone from Gucci then. JARVIS can send a basic body model and they can come in tomorrow and take measurements for customising it.”

“It doesn’t have to be so expensive!” I exclaimed.

“I don’t want His Highness to call me cheap.” 

Ah, Tony and his pride. “And, I want to be able to meet him tomorrow,” I added.

Tony opened his mouth to refuse but both Stella and I glared at him. He grimaced and said, resignedly, “You know, usually I enjoy women ganging up on me, but not in this way. And, not you two,” He added hurriedly when he saw my disgusted expression and Stella's highly unamused one.

“Thanks, Tony.” I added, once I managed to bleach my brain.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, kid. Now, get out.”

As soon as we stepped outside, I couldn’t stop myself from hugging Stella. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I kept chanting.

She returned the hug and squeezed my shoulders. I let go, beaming at her. It felt good to be excited about and focused on my job once again.

Stella smiled at me as well. “Well, it looks like the game is on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. 3000 hits, 250+ total kudos and 45 kudos for last chapter... I'm shook. You guys are amazing and I'm just humbled my fic has got such an enthusiastic response, given that this is my very first fic in this fandom and you guys have absolutely no obligation to trust me to fly along well with a longfic. And also given that I can hardly hold a candle to some of the other amazing writers here, whether it is in dialogue or worldbuilding or characterisation. Of all the fics and authors you could've chosen, you chose to give me and my fic your time. Thank you.
> 
> 2\. THANK YOU ALL for such amazing feedback last chapter. Special shout out to lilyskywalker, whose amazing review has had a huge influence on this chapter, and will continue to affect many of the following chapters as well. The questions they raised - and I' guessing many of you thought in your head - have been important in defining some of Scandal's thoughts and hopes and motives this chapter. 
> 
> 3\. On the vein of thanking people... hope you had a great Thanksgiving (break)!
> 
> 4\. I've had no time to properly proofread this, because I've been busy studying for the GRE, but feel free to point out any grammar, language whatever errors, however trivial. And please do send in constructive criticism - it's always welcome!


	14. That Time We Outfitted Our Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You see Loki after a two-week hiatus and help him choose his wardrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are going to either hate this chapter or love it. Probably both. But you're definitely going to hate me. Also, if you're my mother and you're reading this, please stop imagining me as Scandal, otherwise you'll start crying by the end of this chapter. Thanks.

“Well, well. The prodigal employee has returned.” The god remarked as soon as I stepped in. I had forgotten – or perhaps not recognised till now – just how melodious his voice was. It felt odd being back in his apartment. Had it only been two weeks?

“Hi.” I whispered.

Loki sat on the couch, the same way he would sit whenever I had come in the not-so-distant past to commence that day’s torture. He regarded me, thoroughly unamused and doubly displeased for he had been “requested” to delay his workout today. “Why?” He asked irritably. 

“Why?” I trailed off, not understanding what he wanted to know. I’d begged Clint to let me off for today. Without the exercise, my brain had difficulty functioning given that it was not even seven in the morning. 

“Why have you come back?” He snapped. “Did I not tell you I would make you suffer if you ever came here again?”

My heart was beating so hard that I was scared it was going to smash out of my ribcage. Behind me, Robson shifted. Loki glanced at him and smirked.

“I threatened you and even you are intelligent enough to know that I would make good on my threat. Your guardian has already proven his incompetence. So, why return?”

“Look, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I really am sorry.”

“Oh, I believe you.” He sneered. “I saw that sickening sincerity in your eyes. You were not apologising because you had been reprimanded; no, you were apologising because you actually meant it.”

I nodded eagerly.

“Pathetic.” He declared. “If you knew what I am, then you would not have been so willing to apologise.”

I shook my head fervently. “I really, really don’t care." 

“You do not care?” He mimicked. “Then, what do you care about?”

“Doing my job.” I said, quietly.

“Are you so seduced by whatever paltry riches Stark has promised you, the way a magpie is seduced by anything that glitters, that you are willing to endure further indignity?”

I clucked my tongue. “It’s not that. I just want to do my job. I just want to do the kind of work I’m passionate about.”

“And, is it passion that brings you here after two weeks of absence? Was it passion that made you send those coffees to me even though you were too ashamed or too scared to face me? Was it passion that made you submit to your mentor even though she humiliated you in front of me and your precious Stark?”

“She did _not_ humiliate me,” I said, sharply. “She was right; I had crossed a line.”

“And, what of the line I crossed?” He asked, his tone softer but no less demanding.

“Yeah, I don’t appreciate that.” I said, trying to play it off.

His eyebrows shot up to his forehead and he uncrossed his legs. “You don’t ‘appreciate’ that? So, what do you appreciate? Having a monster almost kill you while your so-called mentors watch from the side?”

I flinched. I didn't understand why he was calling himself a monster, but I supposed it was to do with the adoption saga. Either way, that was something I did not want to go back to. “They weren’t just watching from the side.”

“Do not act foolish!” He snarled. “You are only alive because of Thor. Stark was pretending to be deaf and dumb and that other woman, Stella, only had her job and work in mind.”

“Stella had a lot of things in mind,” I said, irritably. “She did and does have my best interests in mind. Whatever her tactics, she was right, for more reasons than one.”

Loki’s expression of casual annoyance changed to furious disbelief. “You stupid, imbecilic mortal," He said, emphasising each word.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. However eager I was to mend bridges and do work, I wasn’t going to stand for name calling this time around.

He glared at me. Was that chagrin on his face? “You did not listen to me, did you? I should have known better than to waste my words on you. You are just as thick-skulled as the rest of your vapid race.”

Where was all this coming from? One minute he was reiterating his threat, the next he was taking me to task for not listening to him? “I heard you loud and clear when you said you were going to torture me!” I yelled.

“I am not talking about that!” He barked and stood up.

“Then, what are you talking about?” I barked back, barely able to stop myself from jumping.

“The advice I gave you on your second day!” He said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, what about it?”

His outrage increased, if that were possible. “I told you to not try to prove yourself to others. I told you it would only lead you to being miserable.”

“Yeah, I’m not proving myself to anyone. I’m proving myself to myself.” I squawked. Why was he bringing that up? It had been the only other moment when I'd felt that he was more than just an asshole villain, but he had snapped out of that mode within seconds. 

“Proving yourself to yourself requires you to subject yourself to me and your mentors’ disapproval?”

“Yeah,” I said defiantly, for there really was no other way to answer the question.

“So, do you feel you are worthy?” He mocked. “Do you feel like you have accomplished much by waiting on me? Do you feel like you are wizened and experienced after having been abused by me for this entire month?" 

“Well, when you put it like that…” I mumbled.

“Stop deflecting the matter at hand!” He barked and this time, I did jump. “Answer me, girl. Has all this been worth your miserableness?”

“Why do you even care?” I snapped back, fed up of this twisted concern he was showing me.

“I do not.” He said coolly.

I drew in a sharp breath, oddly hurt, even though I had no reason to be.

“You are of no use to me,” He continued. “Exploiting your shortcomings, numerous though they are, is not going to help me in any way. Had I the need to play on your crippling insecurity and need to define your worth through something extraneous, I would be delighted. Since I do not have the need to use you, however, it is exhausting to see you fumble around so pathetically.”

I let out a short, bitter peal of laughter. “Sorry to be such a burden.”

He glared at me. “It is beyond exhausting having to pity you.”

“Then, don’t,” I said, waspishly. 

“I should have known better than to bother giving you advice. Like I had said, you mortals are not worthy of my time and expertise. I do not know what prompted me to believe you would be an exception.”

“Then, why did you?” 

He huffed. “I was merely acknowledging your efforts to stop Stark from making me grovel to you that day.”

I blinked, trying to recall what had happened on that chaotic first day. “As I remember, it was _Thor’s_ idea to make you apologise.”

“And, then people wonder why I hate him.”

“But, you listened to him,” I said, fumbling to find a word to describe that lunch, “ _That_ day.”

“He has his moments of reasonability. That does not stop me from hating him.” He added. “Nor does it mean I spared you because I _care_ for you.”

“That,” I snorted, “Is evident.” 

“I am glad you understand that.” He said, condescendingly.

“I’m glad you’re glad.” I said, extremely politely because that is the best way to be rude. I fancied I saw Loki’s lips twitch, but I couldn’t be sure.

“So, I ask you one last time, girl, why are you here? And, do not dance around the question. My patience with you has run out,” He warned.

“Look, I meant it when I said I was sorry. And, I will say it again: I am sorry. You’re right, I just want to work and prove my worth,” I said, half-saying it because the only way to cooperate with His Highness was to pander to him and half-saying it because there was no point drawing out the conversation. “If you’re not willing, fine. I will walk out of here and we will never see each other again, for I will have done the best I could. If you are willing, then we work together. Civilly.”

His eyes glinted with that all-too familiar spark of mischief. “That will depend on the work you have in mind.”

I swallowed. “Here,” I stepped forward, holding out an invitation in shaky fingers.

He held his hand out, meaning I would have to come forward. This, too, was eerily like my second day at work. This time, however, Robson took the invitation from my hands and marched towards Loki. He held it out for Loki, who merely held his own hand out and grinned arrogantly at him. It was a battle of wills – that which Robson lost. He thrust the card into Loki’s hand and walked back, his face red from fury. Loki took his precious time opening the invitation. He opened the envelope carefully and neatly without breaking eye contact with either of us. I was envious of his skill with envelopes – mine always ended in a less-than-pristine state. Once he had read the card inside, he looked at me, a small smirk playing on his face.

“You want to take me to a party.”

“Yep.”

“You trust me to behave even though I have done nothing but misbehave with you.”

That sounded wrong. Knowing him, it was probably intentional. He was right, though. I had been so focused on visibility that I had not given much thought to how he would conduct himself. “I don’t know about behaving but I know you won’t be recognised.”

He narrowed his eyes in concentration. I could practically hear the gears whirring. “You sound convinced I will not be recognised.”

I bit my lip, wondering how to proceed next.

“Why, of course you are convinced.” He declared. “That lovely woman Mary did not recognise me. It would be a pleasure to reacquaint myself with her.”

I rolled my eyes. I was alarmed at the idea that he would try to chat her up again, but I knew it wouldn’t be wise to let him smell my fear. “It would most certainly not.”

“Maybe not yours. You were angered I had turned my attention from you.”

How did he do it? How did he go from raving mad to dismissive to teasing in a matter of minutes? “Sure, whatever.”

He looked a tad disappointed I hadn’t taken the bait. Good. “But, the reactions of one giglet are not enough to give you such strong conviction. Unless…” He trailed off, surveying me curiously. “ _Ah_. Those mortals these past two weeks who have mysteriously been ending up in close quarters with me; you sent them to me.”

I looked at him, half-surprised Loki had pieced together the story and half not-surprised that he had.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, although he didn’t need the confirmation.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since we met Mary.”

“So even when you are threatening me with mythological tortures, you are still thinking about your work.” His eyes were full of mirth, but there was something unplaceable in his voice.

“I guess.”

He laughed. It wasn’t a warm laugh, but it wasn’t unkind either. “Well, I cannot deny you are _committed_. However stupid it may be, it is... applaudable.”

“Thanks.” Had he really just complimented me? Yes, it was a left-handed compliment, but still!

“Do not let it go to your head,” He scoffed. “Do not let your survival go to your head, either. I have killed people far worthier, far smarter and far more useful than you for far less than the infractions you committed. You are just a little worm.”

And, he was back.

“Thanks for clarifying that,” I said dryly. This time, his lips definitely twitched. “So, can we discuss the plan?”

He swept his hand in permission.

“So, we need to get you some clothes. Fancy clothes,” I amended, as I remembered Tony’s wisecrack about Loki going around naked. “Party clothes. Nice clothes.” 

“How many times are you going to say ‘clothes?’”

“I’m done, sorry.” I exhaled. “Right. You get my meaning. Anyway, these are some of the best cl-” I saw him peering at me, “Garments,” – He let out an amused huff – “From the best brands, I mean, the best garment designers,” I added, not trusting an alien Norse god to know the inner workings of capitalism and consumerism. “And they are sending someone to take your measurements and customise the clothes for you.”

“And after that, you parade me for the mortals’ viewing pleasure.”

“One, I’m not ‘parading’ you. Two, there’s no ‘viewing pleasure’ involved.”

“Of course there is,” He smirked. “You would know even better than Mary, would you not?”

It took a while to click what he was talking about. Once it did, I rubbed a hand over my face. “ _That_ was a month ago. Will you ever stop bringing it up?”

“Finally, you admit it occurred.”

“No!” I cried, bewildered. “What? I did no such thing!”

“You said it was a month ago. That implies that it did occur.”

I scowled at him, irritated I was not able to find a way out of it. “Okay, _fine_! It occurred! Happy? Now, do you agree to go to the party?”

He gave it some thought, before uttering, “No.”

I glared at him. “Fine!” I spat. “Good, now I can resign in peace because I’ve done everything in my power!”

He laughed. “Do you really think I would let you off as easily as that? No, darling. Your willingness to stay put and suffer is intriguing and I want to see how far you can go with it. And, because I find this foolishness of yours strangely admirable, I will indulge you. I will come to this party and I will agree to having my measurements taken.”

“And, do you promise to behave?” I asked, suspicious of how quickly and willingly he was playing ball.

“Now, where would the fun be in that?” He grinned. “I promise to not _misbehave_.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I promise to not kill or maim anyone. I promise to not turn into a belligerent drunkard like Stark.” 

“What about telling people who you are?”

“Why, if you are truly convinced in your little theory, you should not be that worried about anyone believing me, should you?” He laughed at my exasperation. “You will just have to keep an eye on me. I trust you will find that endeavour far from unpleasant.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You step out of line, you will get into trouble. I don’t know how, but we both know Tony or the others won’t let you get away with it. They’ll probably take this apartment away and make you live in a cell.”

“This apartment _is_ a cell. It is not fit for royalty.” He said imperiously.

This was going to go tits-up, I already knew. But, it was too late to change anything. Or rather, I was too proud to cave into what Tony had been saying all along. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m just telling you.”

“You are worried because your employment will also be on the line.” He smiled knowingly. “Fret not, my little worm. I will not be _too_ mischievous tonight. You and I are a team. I believe that is what one of your predecessors said to me, that silly little thing.”

I looked at him in surprise. I had never inquired much about the PRs before me, but I would probably benefit from learning what had – rather, what had not – worked for them.

“Okay. I’m going to bring in the stylist. Remember –”

“Act like a mortal, yes.” He said, as if the task was utterly draining. “Go."

I retraced my steps, sending Robson a look of comical horror at what lay ahead of us. He helped me swipe out and followed me. I ran to fetch the stylist from the floor lobby, while he dispatched the SHIELD agents away from the door so as to not tip her off about anything.

“Francesca!” I called.

“Ah, I was wondering what was taking so long!” She leapt up from the sofa and walked over to me.

From what I understood, Francesca was a junior designer who was supposed to recreate a head designer’s design, prepare fabric, make last-minute adjustments and offer clients some styling advice. We had talked yesterday over the phone and she had asked me a lot of questions that I had no clue how to answer. There had been some points on which I had stood firm, but otherwise, I’d given her a free reign of what she could do.

“My client tends to look very… severe,” I had said. “We need to soften his look without making him look any less sharp.”

“Are you his stylist?” She asked.

“No, I’m his PR.”

“Oh. I was hoping I could speak with his stylist.”

“He doesn’t have a stylist.”

“Well, he should. Especially if he’s interested in custom suits.” 

“Yes, of course,” I said, pinching my arm to distract myself from the rising irritation. “But, for now, I was hoping you can help us out and guide his sartorial choices.”

“Of course, you only had to say so.” She said sweetly and I had bit my lip in annoyance.

Despite this initial miscommunication, she had been relatively easy to work with.

“Pastels are always a good way to go,” She said.

“Oh, yes,” I said, even though I knew she was not expecting me to agree or disagree.

“Light blues, whites, light greys are always in. We can even play around with pink.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Not sure about what?”

“About the pink.”

“Why not?” She asked, peeved I, a fashion nobody, was questioning her.

“I don’t think a pink suit would _suit_ his personality,” I said, mentally patting myself on the back for a well-placed pun.

Sadly, she had not appreciated it. “Darling, I’m not talking about a pink suit. A light pink shirt with a grey patterned suit, however, would be good.”

“Oh. Oh, yes.”

“But, that is too light for a soiree. I’ll throw in some dark grey, navy and black suits as well. We can team those up with white or baby blue shirts.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds good. Just one thing: I don’t want any greens or all-black suits or anything golden.”

“What’s the problem with greens? Or all-blacks? They can be different shades of black. Those kind of suits are en mode.”

“He doesn’t like those colours.” I lied.

“Yes, but they will look –” 

“Sorry, no.” I said, resolutely. Then, to soften my bluntness, I added, “But, I love everything else you’ve suggested. And I don’t think we’ll be needing any accessories for now. Just the suits.”

“Yeah, you really should let the stylist decide that. But, whatever.”

Presently, I looked at her curiously, eager to see what a budding fashion designer dressed like. She didn’t look much older than me. While we both wore jeans and a shirt, her jeans were Marc Jacobs and her top was clearly not pedestrian-bought. She also wore strappy heels and had styled her hair and had done some light make up, compared to my sneakers and no-makeup, limp-haired, raccoon-eyed look. It was early on Saturday morning, after all. And, of course, she was thinner than me.

“I really appreciate how quickly you’ve been able to accommodate us.” I said, as I began leading us to Loki’s lair.

“Yeah, no worries. We keep a bunch of suits at hand that we can customise and we also love working for Tony. We’re used to him calling in at the last moment for a suit or two. And, 6’2” athletic build is not too difficult to work with. That model your AI sent was very helpful, so I was able to make a lot of adjustments yesterday itself. I just want to check if we’ve got them all correct and what customisations we can make.”

“Yup,” I said and gestured towards Robson, who fell in line with us. “This is Mr. Lucas’s majordomo, Mr. Robson.”

“Hey,” She said. Robson nodded back. “Mr. Lucas”, of course, was Loki.

We entered the apartment to see Loki standing in his signature pose – hands clasped behind the back, legs shoulder-width apart and an annoying smirk on lips. 

“Mr. Lucas,” I looked at him meaningfully, “This is Francesca from Gucci. She’ll be helping you with your wardrobe today.”

Loki stepped forward to greet Francesca. “Good morning, Francesca.” He held out his hand.

She gladly took it. “Hello, Mr. Lucas. I am so happy to be assisting you today.”

“And, I am happy that a woman as stylish as yourself will be styling me today.” He said, looking deeply into her eyes.

Loki, it seemed, was a cad. Or desperate. Or impartial between blondes like Francesca and brunettes like Mary. Or some combination thereof. Either way, it did nothing to put me at ease.

I cleared my throat. “Francesca, are the clothes he is wearing fine for taking measurements in?”

She appraised his outfit, different from the one he’d been wearing when I’d came earlier – white shirt and grey slacks. He had managed to change his clothes in surprisingly short time.

“No,” She said to him rather than me, “You should be fine.”

She dove for her black carry bag – Gucci, of course – and pulled out a measuring tape. “Can I?” She asked him, holding one end of the tape up in front of him.

“No,” He said, simply.

In no mood for his games, I jumped in, “You agreed to having your measurements taken.”

He looked at me, his eyes glowing with that same spark of mischief that I’d come to dread. “I did.”

“So, what –”

“But, you did not specify _who_ would be taking the measurements.”

“So?” I growled, not seeing his point.

“I want _you_ to take them.” He said, looking like the cat who had lapped the cream.

“What?” I hissed.

“You heard me, darling.”

“But, why?” I spluttered. “We’ve got a stylist for this precise reason and I don’t know how to take measurements!”

“The stylist will guide you from the side, will you not, love?” He looked back at Francesca, smiling at her benignly.

She looked back and forth between me and Loki, just as bewildered, if not apprehensive, as me. “Sure,” She said eventually.

She walked over to me and awkwardly handed the tape. I took it from her, wordlessly pleading with her to reconsider. Either she took no notice, or decided to ignore me. I took her place right in front of Loki and dared to look at him. If I had ever thought him scary when he grinned at me manically, then him smiling at me icily with naked anticipation on his face for he alone knew what almost made my knees tremble in fear. And then, just through pure intuition, I understood what the purpose of this latest charade was. He saw realisation dawn upon my face and his smile only became more self-satisfied and curious as to how far I was going to let this carry on.

“Okay, so hold the edge of the tape under the armpit,” Francesca instructed.

I cocked my head forward, asking him to lift his arms. He complied. I turned to Francesca, seeking her approval.

She nodded. “Now just wrap the tape around his chest back to where you started. It shouldn’t be too tight, just a snug fit.”

I did and called out, “43 inches.” 

She jotted down the number in a small notebook. “Excellent. Just as I’d thought. Okay, place the edge on one of the shoulders right where the arm begins and extend it to the other shoulder.”

I stepped behind him, grateful to have the temporary relief from his intense stare. I craned my neck to look at the tape. “20 and a quarter inches.”

“Now, the sleeve. Start from where the arm begins. No, higher than that. At the seam,” She clarified and I put the edge as per her instruction. “Yeah. Now, bring the tape down to where base of the thumb and index finger meet.”

I swallowed, upset I had to give up my vantage point. I stepped to the side and felt, rather than saw, that his stare had become even more discomfiting.

“Here?” I asked.

Francesca squinted. “One inch above the knuckle of the index finger.”

I shifted the other edge a little. “Here?”

“Could you hold up the hand?”

I didn’t know why she couldn’t have come closer and seen for herself, but probably she had taken Loki’s order to “instruct from the side” literally. I couldn’t blame her; you could do nothing but take Loki very, very seriously. I lifted his hand up high, flustered further by how his hand dwarfed mine. It was not uncalloused, but it was softer than what I had expected – not that I had given the softness of his hands any thought, mind. Despite how his fingers had threatened to choke me and held up knives against me, I couldn’t help but admire how long and slender his fingers were. They were graceful; there was no other word to describe it.

“Here?” I said, surprised my voice hadn’t come out squeaky.

She squinted again. “Yeah.”

I let go of his hand much more gently than required. Through the corner of my eye, I saw his smile widen. Suddenly, the edge of the tape on his shoulder slipped and I swore, less than eager to prolong this. I put the edges back in place and observed, “35.”

“Cool,” She said as she scribbled it down. “Okay, the bicep now.”

I flushed. Without waiting for guidance, I wrapped the tape around what I estimated was his bicep. As I patted his arm to get the measurement right, I tried to not focus on how he was more muscular than I’d thought and hurriedly said, “15 and a quarter.”

Loki kept observing me curiously, interpreting and analysing the smallest quirks of my features that would’ve probably escaped the notice of a normal man. I unwrapped the tape and took a step back, keeping my head completely turned away from him. “What next?”

“The waist. Right below the bottom ribs.”

I groaned quietly, for now I had to stand almost flush against him. I wrapped the tape as she had instructed, stepping closer to him in favour of awkwardly hunching myself to hold the ends together. My cheek was almost flush against his chest. His breathing was controlled and quiet, whereas mine was becoming erratic. He smelled like pine and I hoped I didn't smell too much like last night's dinner.

“33,” I said, not as firmly as I’d intended. I was the most unprofessional seamstress in the world.

“Now, the pants waist. Just where the belt is.”

“36,” I said, now not even daring to look at Francesca.

“Now, the outseam. From the pants waist to the heel of the shoe.”

There it was – the part that I had seen coming as soon as I had stepped up to take the measurements. The real reason why Loki had insisted on this game.

He confirmed my suspicions. “You will have to kneel to be able to properly place the tape.” He said, gently, but I knew it was anything but.

I hadn’t expected him to have forgiven me. I had also not expected for him to want to punish me. I understood then that that Loki who had threatened me with physical torture was an anomaly. _This_ was the real Loki, who used mind games and honeyed words and humiliation as torture. When he had so readily agreed to my proposal, all he had had in mind was to get his revenge whatever way he could.

“Do you need help?” He asked.

I snapped my gaze at him, my eyes glinting as boiling hot rage started coursing through me. “No,” I hissed and dropped down to the floor, wincing at the impact on my knees. It was fine, I told myself, it was nothing more than what a normal seamstress would do. Nothing more than what Francesca would’ve done herself.

Except I wasn’t a seamstress or Francesca. 

I dug the edge of the tape into his hip despite knowing it would not even scratch him. I snapped the other edge at the heel and growled, “45 and a half!”

I heard her noting it down. “Um…” She began hesitantly, having sensed that something was clearly wrong. “I need the inseam measure. It’s the last one, I promise.”

I could hear the pity in her voice. It angered me further. I was tired of being an object of pity. “What is it?”

“The inseam,” She cleared her throat.

“ _What_ , pray, is that?” I snapped.

“You put the edge of the tape at the lowest part of the crotch and the other edge at the heel.” She said, quietly.

The heat in my face became worse, just like the rage in my veins. There was a long pause. Then, Loki chuckled.

“Oh, dear. You look a little lost. Would you like me to guide you?”

His hand began inching towards mine and I looked up.

“Touch me,” I snarled, “And I will bite your hand so hard you will be able to see through it.”

Loki’s eyes widened and his chuckle deepened. “Oh, do not be so –”

“NO!” I screeched like a banshee. I jumped up from where I was and stood upright. “I QUIT! ALRIGHT? I QUIT! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?”

I carried on, not paying heed to however he was going to react. “You are a miserable, wretched, entitled, despicable prick of a person and I quit, because you know what? I – or anyone else for that matter – can never and will never be able to do PR well enough to make up for all the ugliness and foulness inside you!”

I was panting, tears beginning to smart my eyes now. I stepped back, but I was nowhere near done. Weeks of misery and shame and anxiety came thundering out of me. “When Thor stopped you and you listened to him, I thought maybe I could still reason with you! That, maybe, you’re not as much of an asshole as I and everyone else have made you out to be! And yeah, when you dished out that 'advice' to prove myself to myself, I thought _maybe_ , just maybe, you cared enough to be decent to me, if not exactly helpful. But, congratulations, for you proved me fucking wrong! You are nothing _but_ an asshole!”

I started crying now. “I have tried to be nothing but nice to you! Since the very first day I have tried to get on your side and work with you! And, yeah, I haven’t always been the nicest or the most patient person, but I have never, _ever_ tried to deliberately hurt you or make you feel less than anyone else. I even tried standing up for you against my boss, against the very man you threw out of this tower!” I pushed the hair back from my forehead and continued, “You lectured me about not meaning what I’ve said, didn’t you? Well, guess what? I never meant any of the things I’d said to sass you! You, on the other hand, have meant all of the hurtful things you’ve said and done to me every step of the way. So you can drop your pretense of your fucked up moral high ground and instead examine just how horrid you actually are!

“I am _sick_ of how dismissive and toxic you are and I am sick of how I have been like a doormat all these weeks. I’ve been clinging on to the hope that we can still work together, but really, there’s no scope for me here professionally or personally." Then, I let out a short high-pitched laugh. "You are right! Damn, you, goddamn it! Damn you for being right! Who the fuck do you think you are? Why the hell am I putting myself through sheer hell for someone as undeserving as you? You are never going to change, be it as a person or in the way you treat me, and you are not worth my time or my stress, so I quit! I fucking quit!”

I marched towards the door and turned one last time to look at him. Whether he had actually opened his mouth to say something, or I had imagined it, I knew not. The only thing that came to my mind was one crazy story about him I’d read on Wikipedia.

“Horse fucker!” I cried and slammed the door behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score: Reader/Scandal - 3; Loki - 4. 
> 
> 1\. I'm thinking of ending this story right here. It seems like a perfect end, right? Scandal walks out after having thrown everything in Loki's face and calling him a horse fucker. Just kidding, lmao, don't worry, I'll still torture you all.
> 
> 2\. The dress measurement part of this chapter was supposed to be chapter #3 in my first outline... then #4, then #5, then #6, then #13... and now it's #14. So if you want to talk about a story getting out of hand, come talk to me. Can't believe we're at 50k words and they're still firmly in enemies phase.
> 
> 3\. I have never taken a guy's measurements before, I'm not a seamstress and I'm not Ilaria Urbinati that I have access to all of Tom Hiddleston's measurements... so be gentle. I spent almost two hours researching men's suit measurements and trying to extrapolate what TH/Loki would measure up to be. It's ridiculous, I know.
> 
> 4\. Special shoutout to fancyboots for always indulging my ramblings about this fic, encouraging said ramblings and offering advice, support and amazing perspective to each and every thing for the entire time I've known her (which is almost 3 years, I'm guessing)
> 
> 5\. Constructive criticism is welcome! Hate this chapter? Tell me! Love it for some weird reason? Tell me!


	15. That Time We Communicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with the aftermath of your vociferous departure.

“ _This man is the nastiest skank I have ever met. DO NOT TRUST HIM. He is a fugly slut (FOR HORSES)!”_ I said aloud as I typed the words into my resignation letter. I selected ‘fugly slut’ and added bold and underline. I googled an image of Loki, pasted it in Word and drew a big red ellipse over it. 

It was only placeholder text. I couldn’t – I _wouldn’t_ – actually use it in the final letter. It was just there till I could convince myself to write something like, “My client and have irreconcilable differences of opinion and cannot establish a working relationship.”

Or, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Tony would appreciate it. Stella, not so much. I was counting on Stella to write my referral letters for future jobs, so I probably should tone it down. Probably. Or, maybe I could write two separate resignation letters. One for Tony with the Mean Girls quote and one for Stella with the professional letter. Trouble was, I still did not feel I could write anything neutral about Loki without puking over my laptop. Of course, I could’ve attempted to writer the letter after I had calmed down. But, it was a choice between smashing my keyboard for something productive and smashing my apartment for something destructive. I settled for the keyboard.

I settled on a reward system: for every respectful and professional sentence I wrote in the letter, I would set aside $5 for a fancy meal. For every sentence where I took names and name-called, I would take away $10 from my ‘treat-yo-self’ fund. I probably was the only person in the world who was treating myself for quitting a job when she did not have the next one in hand, but I couldn’t care less at that point in time. The strategy worked. I was done in ten minutes. I printed the letters and set them aside. After a moment’s thought, I also printed the ‘Burn Book’ version of the letter and put it with the one meant for Tony. It was in black-and-white, of course, since I wasn’t wasting colour cartridge on that waste of space called Loki. Tony would appreciate it. I hoped he did, for I was counting on him to help me secure my next job. I remembered he had offered to cover therapy as well, but as long as he got me a new source of income, I would be happy. Calling Loki ‘horse fucker’ had been therapy enough.

I was shocked I had been able to leave his apartment alive. I had half-expected and not at all cared that he would snap my neck right then and there. Or strangle me to death with the measurement tape and dance on my lifeless body. I fully expected him to come blazing through the door, pick me up by my throat and slice it open any moment. Did I think I was long for this world? No. But, did I have regrets? Also no.

My phone buzzed and I jumped, wondering if Loki had possessed my phone. Collecting my wits, I looked at the caller ID: Robson.

I sighed. I did not want to talk to him, or anyone. But, I also knew that if I did not reply, he would think Loki had gone Trinity Killer on me and left me to die naked in my bathtub in a pool of my blood. Or worse, he would invite Tony and Stella’s inevitable wrath on me. I shook my head in bafflement. How was getting a talking-to from Tony and Stella worse than getting exsanguinated in a bathtub? My priorities had really gone for a toss, I thought miserably. 

_Just like the rest of your life_ , my brain added helpfully.

It’s going to be fine, Tony will help me, I thought.

 _Yeah, because getting a job at Stark Industries is a guarantee, right?_ my brain supplied. 

Tony will help me, I thought furiously.

 _Not to mention, if Loki ever got out of the Tower, he would probably come kill you_.

“Guess I'll just die then!” I screamed out loud. I was really losing it.

The phone kept buzzing annoyingly. I sighed again and picked it up.

“Final-fucking-ly!” Robson exclaimed. “Miss, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I croaked and winced. I hadn’t realised how raw my throat felt.

“I’m coming down to get you and we’re gonna –" 

“No,” I said quietly.

“We need to –”

“Tell Tony, I know. I’ll do it. I’ll do it in the evening.”

He inhaled sharply. “Surely, you can’t be thinking of going to the party with him!" 

“I’m not,” I assured him. “But, since I can’t actually hand in my resignation until Monday and I still have to serve my notice period, I am still obligated to go to the party. I will tell him when I see him.” 

“We should tell him right now.”

I got up from my chair and made my way to the kitchen. I pulled out a cheap, half-empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon and a saucepan and poured the wine into the pan. I fetched some spices from the overhead cabinet and added some to the mixture and started a low flame. I was going to kill two birds with one stone.

As I did so, I put the phone on loudspeaker and spoke, “You won’t be able to reach him, anyway. You know how he is on weekends.”

“Trust me, it’s not gonna take me long to find and tell him.” 

I sighed. “Please, don’t.”

He groaned. “I should.”

“Please.”

There was silence on the other end. Then, “I really should. But, fine. Talk to him or whatever. I’ll be doing it either way tomorrow morning. And, I need to tell your boss as well.”

“Stella?”

“Yep. We’ve been asked to keep her informed about crises.”

“Oh, god, Francesca!” I blurted as I realised what he was referring to. “Oh, god, please, please, _please_ tell me I didn’t say too much!” I pleaded.

Great, now even Tony’s help seemed doubtful.

He cleared his throat. “Well, we did have to take her for debriefing. In fact, I just got out of it.”

“And?” I squeaked, clutching the ladle and almost beating the wine instead of stirring it. 

“Well, we’ve let her go, of course. Can’t keep her for long. And, anyway, we didn’t have reason to. She was just spooked out, I guess. We’re reviewing the footage as well, so that should tell us for sure if we need to take any further steps.”

“Footage? What footage?” I demanded and winced again.

“Footage from the living room.”

“You have cameras in his apartment?” I exclaimed, not sure if it was out of surprise or the media ethics champion in me protesting.

“Just his living room.” He clarified.

“Ah. Okay.” I said and concentrated on stirring the mixture. The spices were beginning to truly lend their flavour and I took in the smell appreciatively. Then, a thought struck me. 

“Wait, did you say footage?”

“Yep.”

“It has audio?”

A pause. “Yep.”

“Oh, god,” I moaned.

“Yep.” He said, again.

“Wait. That means, there’s also footage of me… kneeling.” My face heated up from more than just the warmth of the flame. 

Robson sighed. “Yes.”

“Can you delete it after you’re done?” I asked, smally, mortified that someone else was going to be privy to my shame.

“I don’t think so, miss.” He said, gently.

“How many people are reviewing it?”

“I’m not sure. It would get sent to more than one person, though.”

I let out a choked noise and quickly turned off the heat. I pulled a mug and tipped some of the mulled wine into it. I gulped some of it and winced. While the heat worked wonders for my throat, it badly singed my palate.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just burned my tongue.” I wiped the wine from my lips.

“I’m sorry,” He said quietly.

“It’s okay,” I shrugged.

He cleared his throat again. “Well, I’m glad I got to meet you, even if it was under less than pleasant circumstances.”

“Same,” I said weakly.

“And, we might see each other again some time, but if not, and if you ever need me, you know who to call.”

My eyes watered. “Thank you, Agent Robson,” I said sincerely.

“Take care, miss,” He said gruffly and disconnected.

I finished the last of the wine, poured myself another mug and padded back to my room. Then, I sank into my bed and started crying. Unlike the last time in front of Stella, this time, I made no effort to contain myself. I cried for the job I’d so coveted, not because I’d earned it, but because I’d _not_ earned it. I cried for the girl who’d been so desperate to please and impress because she was paranoid someone would realise she didn’t belong there and was not worth their time. I cried for the girl who had come in with so many daydreams and such colourful hopes for the futureLastly, I cried for myself because no one else would be able to do it for me. I would never be able to mention to anyone exactly what had transpired these past six weeks. Maybe one day, when all was said and done and I was old and ready to be pulled off life support, I’d tell the story to my grandchildren – or grand-puppies and grand-kittens – and we’d share a laugh. But for now, this would have to do.

With the pain in my throat soothed and the last drop of wine in the mug swallowed, I burrowed into my blankets and went to sleep.

* * *

 

I woke up at three in the afternoon with a pounding headache and an empty belly. Had I really managed to sleep for five hours? Granted, I had drunk on an empty stomach, but two mugs of wine shouldn’t have knocked me out like that. Maybe I’d been more tired than I’d thought. On top of this, I felt dizzy since I hadn’t eaten since six in the morning. It took me half an hour to pull myself out of bed and another to swallow an Advil and rummage through the fridge to find something quick and edible. I settled on bread and peanut butter. Now that I felt a little less faint, was able to use my throat without any issue and was free of the headache, I decided to go buy some fresh bread and cheese and restock my wine collection. Bread and cheese were the perfect snack – fulfilling enough to make up for my starvation but not so much as to ruin my appetite for dinner at the party. Besides, it would be a pleasant distraction. And, since my days of living rent-free were almost over, I might as well treat myself one last time.

The shopping for a good loaf, block of cheese and wine was a pleasant distraction. I came back home, slightly tipsy again from sampling the wines, but in a markedly better mood. I awkwardly clutched the bags in one arm as I fumbled with my keys. I kicked the door open and shut, trying to shuffle forward blindly. A sharp voice almost ruined my plans for not dropping anything.

“This man is the nastiest skank I have ever met. Do not trust him. He is a fugly slut.”

My phone fell from my hand sans my headphones and Adele’s voice started crooning,

_This is the end_

_Hold your breath and count to ten_

_Feel the earth move and then_

_Hear my heart burst again._

It was bleakly appropriate, for Loki of Asgard was in my apartment and had just read my mock resignation letter.

Adele kept singing:

_For this is the end,_

_I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment_  
  
So overdue I owe them  
  
Swept away, I’m stolen

I screamed. Loki rushed over to me and covered my mouth with his hand and shook me hard. My legs crumbled and I fell gracelessly to the floor. The bag containing the bread and cheese and the wine all fell down into a glorious, sticky, red mess complete with glass splinters. Cold horror overtook all my senses, but I did not have the energy or the ability to do anything but look at him with wide eyes. He rushed to the door and locked or jammed it. With that done, he surveyed me gleefully from his vantage point above me.

“You are in your cups. Like mentor, like mentee,” He jeered.

I blinked, looking and feeling dumber than a goldfish and close to hyperventilating. “How… how did you…”

“One thing at a time, darling. Now, stop that woman’s warbling,” He nodded to my phone, from where Adele kept singing. I blindly cast my hand out to try to find my phone. I dared not take my eyes off Loki; not that keeping them on him would’ve done me much good anyway. Finally, I found my phone and stopped the music. I dipped my eyes down to my phone for just a second. Thankfully, the screen was intact.

He nodded in approval. “Good. Now, do you need any help with the articles?”

I looked at him in confusion before I registered he was referring to my now destroyed shopping. Why was he asking me that? I realised it didn’t matter. He wasn’t soliciting a response; he just wanted to make me confused because that would give him more power over me.

I tried to school my features into something neutral and said, “No.”

He rubbed his index finger across his lips as he appraised me. “Very well. Come sit on the sofa.” He held out his hand.

More niceness, more pleasantness – all hiding the ugliness underneath. I felt a wave of nausea go through me.

“No,” I said.

“The floor is hardly comfortable. There is glass all around you. Come,” He insisted.

“I sit where I like in my apartment,” I said stubbornly and crossed my legs, despite the very real danger of getting stabbed by the glass. I wanted to ask again why he cared, but I knew it would just trip me down into another mind game I would definitely lose.

He rolled his eyes for god knew what reason. “Fine, now –”

“Why are you here? _How_ are you here?” I blurted, forgetting about not showing my confusion and asking him for information.

“We will get to that,” He said, very patiently, as if talking to a child. He went back to the couch and sat down upon it languidly.

“This is my apartment.”

“I know.”

“I did not give you permission to enter,” I said. I was acting a thousand times more confident than I was feeling. I could feel myself become lightheaded from both the fear and the wine, but somehow, that loosened my inhibitions rather than strengthen them. I was going to die and I had no regrets. There was no point in begging for my life. If I incensed him enough, he might even make my death quick rather than slow and torturous.

He rolled his eyes again. “Neither did I the first time you entered my rooms.”

“That was for work.”

“So is this.”

I frowned, again letting the confusion show on my face. Realising my slip up, I huffed and looked away, trying to gauge just how quickly he’d be able to subdue me should I try to leg it for the door.

“I would not advise that,” He said slowly, following my gaze.

Guess I’d not been too subtle about it. My eyes snapped back to his, panicked.

He continued, “I do not wish to hurt you, but if you do try to escape or make a noise or do anything to make the situation more tedious than it already is, I will have no choice. I only wish to talk.”

What situation? I retorted in my head. Out loud, I said, “I don’t. Get out.”

“No,” He said again, infuriatingly.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” I snarled. 

“Have you not been listening?” He asked, raising his voice for the first time since I walked in. He lowered his voice again, “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“I told you, I’m done. We have nothing more to say to each other.” I cringed internally at how I sounded like a clichéd character from a clichéd romantic drama. 

“Oh, clearly, we do. Or, at least, you do,” He grinned. 

My heart, which had already been pounding all this time, started beating even harder. I couldn’t figure out how much of the increased beating was from terror and how much of it was from alcohol and Advil poisoning.

“Such a colourful vocabulary you have! And such emotion! ‘This man is the nastiest skank I’ve ever met. Do not trust him. He is a fugly slut!’” He recited. “I confess I do not know what some of these words mean. Care to explain?”

‘Skank’ and ‘fugly’ weren’t exactly hard to pronounce, but he still said them as if he’d been practicing their pronunciation, or at least been saying them for multiple times. I felt my stomach drop. How long had he been here? Had he just come in or had he been waiting for god knows how long to ambush me in my own apartment?

I don’t know whether it was the wine lowering my inhibitions or the fear paralysing my grey cells, but I said, “You missed ‘for horses’. It says you are a slut for horses.” 

His eyes narrowed. He leapt up from the sofa, making me jump up from my spot on the floor in alarm. The glass crunched beneath my feet. I could barely take a step back before he reached me in a single stride. He lifted me by the waist – I tried to kick him in the groin. He shook me hard and I screamed again. He glared at me and brought one hand up from my waist to my mouth to muffle me. I tried to remember what Clint had taught me and brought down a hammerfist on his lower arm close to the elbow. He grunted, but didn’t let go of my mouth. I couldn’t head-butt him because he was too far from me, so I resorted to biting and licking his palm. He began shaking in silent mirth and I was torn between wanting to glare at him and wanting to laugh in return. After a few moments, I tried to push his hand away again. This time, he let go, but he put that hand back on my waist.

“Put me down!” I growled.

“As you wish,” He said and carried me over to the couch and dropped me on to it.

I shrieked as the impact from falling on to the couch from a height ripped through my body. I tried to jump up again but he glowered at me.

“Stay,” He warned.

“I’m not your pet!” I snapped.

“And, I am not a horse fucker,” He retorted.

“You fucked a horse; that makes you a horse fucker!”

“I did not have sexual relations with a horse!” He roared.

My face crumpled. I desperately tried to keep my snicker in check, but judging by how he cocked his head and glared holes into me, I failed. I had to make him say that again. “You what?”

He narrowed his eyes again. “Do not play games with me, Midgardian.”

“No, seriously, what?” I asked, trying to look innocent. It wouldn’t have convinced a blind man, leave alone the God of Lies, but it was worth a shot.

He gritted his teeth. “I did not have sexual relations with a horse,” He repeated. “Do not dare make me say it again.”

Oh, this confession would definitely put Bill Clinton to shame.

“Did you have romantic relations, then?” I asked brazenly.

He bent forward, resting his arms on the sofa on either side of my legs. I scuttled back, trapped.

“Why, darling? Jealous?” He whispered.

I hadn’t forgotten about his obnoxiousness, but the fear and shock at seeing him in my home had placed it at the back of my mind. Now, however, it came back to the front of my mind. I fisted my hand and tried punching him in the solar plexus.

He caught my hand and chuckled quietly. “Such fire in you.”

“Get out,” I ordered.

He let go of my fist and settled down next to me. I jumped in surprise, but he held my hand down to the couch. I looked away from him, taking in the damage in the apartment. The smell of wine permeated the apartment and the glass was going to be hell to clean up. The carpet was beyond repair, I noted miserably. Perhaps the bread and cheese were still salvageable, unless they’d soaked up the wine as well.

“What do ‘skank’ and ‘fugly’ mean?” He asked again.

I let the air out through my mouth. “Why are you here?” I asked, frustrated. “Look, just torture me and kill me and _go_. I’m tired.”

“Who said this is not your torture? Tell me the meaning of those words.”

I inhaled sharply and turned to look him straight in the eye. Heck, I was going to die anyway. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory. “’Skank’ is someone who is unclean, or lower-class or sleazy. ‘Fugly’ is an amalgamation of ‘fucking’ and ‘ugly.’”

He looked at me in something resembling shock and just when I thought I was done for, he laughed. He looked me straight in the eye and kept laughing hard. It was the first time I’d seen him be so exuberant. It completely transformed his visage. I stared at him ever-growing bafflement. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t I already dead or, at least, strapped to a torture rack? He had even let go of my hand in favour of clutching his thighs as he went through the throes of mania.

“Are you – are you not angry?” I asked at long last.

He turned to me, eyes still glinting with glee. “Oh, I am. Trust me, I am. You have insulted me in a way that not even Stark and his cohort of copulatives have dared to. I can kill you and subject you to unfathomable agony. But, that will just prove you right, will it not? You are expecting me to do that to you, but darling, I do not believe in living up to anyone’s expectations. You think you know everything there is to know about me and nothing I do will surprise you, but you are going to lose, sweetling.”

I looked at him dazedly then rolled my eyes. “Piss off.”

“Now, now,” He said, his tone not as light as before, “I like your spirit, but do not make the mistake of presuming you can get away with insolence.”

“Whatever. I’ve told you what ‘skank’ and ‘fugly’ mean. Feel free to call me some other unpleasant things as well. Now, you can leave.”

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing more to say.”

“Good, because you have said enough,” He said firmly.

I turned away defiantly, looking towards the kitchen.

“Look at me, little worm.”

“No.”

“Look at me, mortal.”

“No.”

“Look at me, my lady,” He said. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up.”

I heard him inhale and knew he was running out of patience.

“Look at me, _Scandal_ ,” He spat out the nickname.

“No!” I snapped.

He growled. “I call you by your moniker, you have a problem. I address you as ‘my lady,’ you have a problem. What do you want me to say, Midgardian?”

For a 1000-year-old god, he was capable of being so very obtuse. I didn’t say that, however, instead settling on, “You can use my name.”

He sighed my name and I almost looked back at him in surprise. He had never called me by my name before.

“Look at me,” He added and grabbed my jaw and turned my face around. His grip was as unrelenting as his voice, but it was unexpectedly gentle. I squirmed in his grasp, more out of show, for I knew nothing was going to help me. Still, I did not want to appear docile.

“You have such a way with words, little one. You have taught me two new words today. There are some other words that have caught my fancy as well. ‘There are three things wise men fear,’” He began. My eyes met his in surprise. “’The sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle… woman,’” He amended.

I cocked my head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of his amendment.

“And there are some more. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’” He added. “And you, my gentle dear, have been deeply scorned.”

He let go of my jaw. I looked deep into his eyes. There was no other place I could have looked. In the dimness of the living room, his eyes looked so green. I took in his eyelashes. They were long for a man.

"I am not gentle," I muttered.

"Not quite as I had thought you were, indeed," He agreed. After a moment's beat, he said, "I want you to come back and work for me.”

And just like that, the spell was broken.

“No.” I ground out.

His eyes, that had just now been so tranquil and searching, now flashed in anger. “ _Midgardian_ ,” He began.

“No.”

“Do not interrupt me!” He commanded.

“God, you are just like the men here!” I exclaimed. “White, entitled and unable to understand that no means no!”

He drew back in surprise. “Why do you always insist on making everything so difficult?” He hissed.

“Why do you?” I retorted and stood up. This time, he didn’t stop me. “I told you then and I’m telling you now, I’m done with you. You have been terrible to me. I’m fed up of tolerating you and living the way I have been this entire time. You are just pissed because I’m leaving not so much because of your antics – although that was the tipping point – but because I realised I have nothing more to do here. You didn’t drive me out as much as I decided that there is nothing for me here. You lost. I won.” 

He leapt up from the couch as well and stared at me with a wild look in his eyes. “You act above your station, you little –”

“See?” I exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! Why should I come back when you are going to treat me like this all the time? Why are you even here, Loki? Do you just want to have the last word?”

“No, I am here to do what you have been unwilling to do despite it being your profession. I am here to communicate.”

“ _I_ have been unwilling to do?” I screeched. “Who sat and sulked in silence for almost two weeks because I made a little jibe? Who refused to tell me what coffee he liked because he wanted to watch me suffer? Who told me a half-lie and led me to believe he was this poor little man imprisoned in his apartment? Who wet my shirt because he was feeling petty and jealous? Who threatened to make me and my – and I quote – ‘unborn spawn howling for generations’?” I yelled and jabbed him in the chest as tears came back to my eyes. “Who humiliated me less than six hours ago instead of telling me to my face just how much he hated what I had said? WHO?” I screamed and jabbed him again.

He caught my arm and shook my shoulder with the other hand till my teeth rattled. “Who turned on me after I had given her the one advice that, had she sat down and thought upon it, would not have driven her to such extremities of stress and anguish? Who acted as if I owed her a favour for doing something as inconsequential as letting me out of my apartment when I would have still been a prisoner any which way? Who sat and sulked in silence for two weeks when I played a little joke on her? Who threatened me with torture when things did not go her way? Who was so callous and unheeding that she did not even give a moment’s thought to what her jab might mean to someone?”

We glared at each other, chests heaving. His hand was still on my shoulder and mine was still at his chest. We stood like that for a long while before I felt my arm beginning to tire. The shouting, the wine, the surprise and the stress all came back to me. I felt as tired as I had before I had slept and as sick as I had after I’d woken.

“Let me go,” I said, tiredly. “Just… let me go. Please.”

He did. He collected his breath and took a step back. “It is exhausting hating you one moment and feeling anything less than hate for you the next.”

“’Feeling less than hate for me?’” I snorted feebly. “You almost make me think you care, even though I know you do not.”

“I do not care for you,” He repeated his line from this morning.

I sighed. “I know.”

“Not as less as I should,” He added, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.

“What?” I asked, almost wordlessly in my shock.

He said nothing, pinching his lips together till they almost blanched.

“You said you wanted to communicate! Then communicate!”

“You came in so much younger and naïve and impressionable than your predecessors. I was sick of the charade by that time, but I thought it would not hurt to have one more laugh. And, I had my fun, but your tenacity and the way you insisted on doing your job even when you were overwhelmed caught my interest. Still, I had not expected you to stay. But, then, you came back on yours second day, visibly subdued but no less determined to do your best and I was curious what made you behave so. And, then, when I discovered that it was this desire to impress everyone and please Stark in particular that motivated you, I could not help but try to guide you. For, I too had come back over and over again to Odin, begging his favour and satisfaction, no matter how deep my wounds were or how sharp his tongue was. I did that and look at me now. In the thrall of _humans_ ,” He said bitterly. “I may not think much of your race, but it was still far from pleasurable for me to watch you head down my path of suffering.”

His words pierced me with their poignancy, but I was already overloaded with emotions and I could not bear to feel anything more. I had no doubt he was telling the truth this time, but I did not want it. It was too little – perhaps too much – too late.

“Loki,” I began quietly. 

“You think I am only capable of being monstrous and despicable. You think I am only capable of enjoying suffering. But, I am more than that. You need to understand that, if nothing else.”

I shrugged with one shoulder. “Okay, Loki.”

“Stop it!” He snarled.

I winced at the sudden change in tone. “Stop what?”

“This listlessness!” He snapped. “Where is that sharp tongue and constant irritation of yours?”

“I give up,” I said quietly.

“So like a mortal to give up at the first sight of defeat,” He jeered. 

I shrugged. “Yeah. I’m a mortal. Sorry not sorry.”

“Come back,” He said and this time I heard a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Loki…” I sighed. “You’re not going to change in the way you treat me. I am nothing to you.”

“If you have half a brain then you should understand by now that that is not true,” He snapped.

I shut my eyes. He realised what he had just done and clenched his hands. He said my name again. It had his desired effect of grabbing my attention.

“That was not right of me,” He continued. “You have no obligation to trust me, I understand. Your words picked at wounds that are still there. Wounds that, perhaps, started this whole saga. You will never understand what an effect they had on me. But, I agree. I went too far today.”

“And…?” I prodded.

“And, it will not happen again.”

“And…?”

He narrowed his eyes, understanding what I was getting at. He exhaled and said, “I will not treat you as dismissively and as repugnantly as I have in the future.”

“But, you will not apologise,” I said, bitterly.

He had the grace to not beat around the bush. “No, I will not.”

“Then, I thank you for your words. I’m glad we can part on more pleasant terms,” I said, feeling like I had a lump in my throat. I walked closer to him and held out my hand. “Shake.”

He clasped my hand firmly but gently. “Do reconsider.”

“Why?”

“I promise I will conduct myself better than I have. I promise I will not be as hateful as I have been. I promise I will treat you better. I promise I will do nothing to hurt you, be it physically or mentally.”

I snorted and pulled my hand away. “And why should I trust your promise? God of Lies, remember?”

“There are some promises that even I am loathe to break.” He looked at me meaningfully. “These are some of them.”

I shook my head. “Why do you even care? You hate the Avengers, you hate being here, you hate me and my kind and you hate my planet. What’s in it for you?”

“I want to get out. I cannot – I will not – spend any more of my time cooped up here. If complying to Stark’s diktats is what it takes, then I am willing. And, when I am willing to do something, I make sure to do it very, very well.”

“You told me you were getting out anyway.”

“Yes, but that is not soon enough. I am willing to do whatever it takes to expedite that process.”

“So, obviously, you’re doing this for selfish motivations.”

“I did not claim to be a saint; only a god.” He smiled.

I rolled my eyes. “If you are to do this, you will have to say things you may not be willing to. You will have to, at some point in the future, apologise for your actions. Can you do that?”

He looked at me sharply. “I will say whatever it takes.”

I looked at him oddly. Clearly, he would never mean the apology and I could change his entire perception but could never be able to change his true nature. It wasn’t any different from what happened with most other crises either. Yet, as horrible and saddening oil spills and food poisonings were, this was on a whole new level. This was a tyrant and a murderer. And yet, for all his faults, he had showed me what could only be called sincerity and concern just now. And, Tony had said that he had saved not just the Earth but the universe. Was that penance? Did it matter? One good could never cancel out a bad, after all.

I shook my head furiously. “I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You can,” He soothed. I felt that somehow, he understood what was going on in my head. “You can. You had every reason to hate me when you first walked in. I had murdered your kind and tried to take over your home. But, you did not. You may have disliked me and disapproved of me. But, it was only when I hurt you so deeply and personally that you started hating me. You are not perfect, but if there is someone who can come close to being open and not judgmental, it is you.”

I shook my head again. “No, I can’t. This – all of this – changes nothing. I have to leave.”

“Please,” He whispered.

It was the ‘please’ that broke me.

He reached forward and clasped both of my hands in both of his. I had no choice but to look him in the eye again.

“Please,” He repeated and I shuddered. I could make out that he was not used to pleading to anyone for anything, especially to a mortal, especially not twice.

“What if you renege? What if you’re horrible again?”

“If you cannot trust me, then trust my desire to do whatever it takes to leave.” 

I shuddered again. What was I doing? Why was I agreeing to this? The words slipped out of me before I could even pause to think. “Fine… fine. Okay. But, we need to talk about it.”

He inhaled sharply. “Yes, of course,” He avowed, unable to mask the relief in his voice.

I pulled my hands out of his. “You cannot call me ‘little worm’ anymore.”

His lips twitched.

“I mean it,” I warned.

“I know. And I will not.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“You promise what?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Clever mortal. You learn fast. I promise I will not call you ‘little worm’ – or any other moniker that you deem demeaning.”

I nodded. “And I will not call you ‘sir’ anymore. I can call you Mr. Loki if you like, but no ‘sir’, no ‘sire’ and no other term of royal address.”

“Call me Loki, then." 

I half-smiled. “Okay. And you will tell me what coffee you want. If you want something else, you will tell me beforehand.”

He chuckled again. “I promise I will tell you what beverage I want beforehand.”

“Good. I’m sure there are other things, but I’m forgetting them right now.”

“We can always negotiate at a later date.”

I nodded and turned to look at the clock. “Shit!” I exclaimed.

“What?”

“It’s almost 5:30 and I still need to clean up that mess and get ready for the party!”

I ran to fetch a broom and dustpan and began sweeping hurriedly.

“Allow me,” He said and without waiting, took the items out of my hand. “You mortals are rather fragile.”

I stood to the side and watched him methodically gather the glass. I bit my thumb and hopped from one foot to the other. What had I done? Why had I done it? Just because he’d been somewhat kind and nice didn’t mean he was actually kind or nice. I really needed to pull out of this, like the way I said I had. I was mustering up the courage to tell him that no, I still wanted to quit, when he spoke up.

“Where do I throw this?”

I pointed to the trashcan in the kitchen and led him there. He followed me and brushed against me slightly as he walked to where I’d pointed. He threw it, set aside the broom and the dustpan and looked at me.

“All done.”

I smiled shakily. “Thanks.”

He nodded. If he saw my vacillation, he did not comment on it.

“You should go,” I whispered. “To get ready,” I said and mentally smacked myself. I should've told him to leave because he wasn't in the clear, that just because his words were welcome, it didn't mean that everything was hunky-dory. Heck, he hadn't even properly apologised to me! How could I let him off the hook so easily? I should've told him sorry but this wasn't happening. I should've kicked and screamed at him, for all the good it would've done.  And yet, I had accepted to help him. What the fuck was wrong with me?

He nodded. “Will I see you in an hour?”

“Yup,” I gave him a thumbs up and he nodded again.

He turned to leave, but just before he could exit, he looked over his shoulder and added, “Thank you, mortal.”

He shut the door softly behind him. I skidded to the floor and clutched my hair. 

What had I done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score: Scandal/Reader - 4; Loki - 4 (THEY'RE EQUAL NOW!!!)
> 
> 2\. Okay, this chapter is so bloody long, but I hope you like it, and I hope it's not too OOC for you. I did have to make Loki act gentler and more nuanced because really, anything less than that and she wouldn't have accepted, but I hope he doesn't seem too wishy washy. Let me know what you think, I am hungry for constructive criticism. 
> 
> 3\. I do apologise if it's shit though. It's been a long, hectic week and I went out drinking on Thursday night even though I had an exam on Friday. Go senior year!! But, I'm so happy they finally COMMUNICATED HEALTHILY! But seriously, constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> 4\. Also... I was thinking of taking this story to Tumblr as well. Now, I know Tumblr is going tits up, but if I were to take it to Tumblr, would any of you be willing to support and follow it there?
> 
> 5\. THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AMAZING RESPONSE LAST CHAPTER. I DON'T KNOW WHETHER YOU GUYS HAVE A THING FOR TAKING LOKI'S MEASUREMENTS OR CALLING HIM A HORSE FUCKER BUT I APPRECIATE IT AND I CANNOT BELIEVE JUST HOW OVERWHELMED I WAS WITH ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT. SERIOUSLY, THANK YOU.
> 
> 6\. I *might* not be able to post a chapter next week, because I'll be flying back home on Wednesday and it's a 16 hour long flight and 10.5 hours of jetlag... and I hit this horrible slump after I reach back home and have the jet lag, so please don't be sad! I will try my best though!


	16. That Time We Shook Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You give Loki some last minute help before the PartyTM 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The next chapter is going to be the PartyTM  chapter," I said, like a liar. Anyway, this chapter does have some delicious Loki/Reader interaction and is back to a much more convenient and desirable length of 4k words.

“You” I applied the concealer, “Are” I jabbed lipstick on to more than just my lips, “An” I said, muffled, as I tried to wipe the excess lipstick, “Idiot” I finished.

I glared at my reflection.

“I don’t know what to do with you!” I waved my hands, almost toppling all the contents off the bathroom shelf. “You’re a moron, an idiot and a sap! A giant fucking moronic sap!”

With a huff, I gave up on the make-up and tried to school my hair into something presentable. It wasn’t working. One side was wetter than the other, but the other side looked more lifeless. I took in the mess and asked my reflection, “Why are you like this?”

But, there was no time to give up. I had to do something or go with wet, frizzy hair.

“An asshole alien comes swooping into your apartment, reads your hate-slash-resignation letter, sabotages your wine and dine plans, uses green puppy dog eyes on you and you come back to work even though he’s been _nothing_ but an asshole to you?” I ranted. “Okay, maybe he was a teensy bit something else than an asshole, but still!” I cried, playing both the devil’s prosecutor and the advocate. “You’re like a puppy who’s easily seduced by the promise of a pat and a ‘good boi.’ An idiot puppy!”

I jabbed the mirror. “You know what you are? A Chihuahua! An effing Chihuahua! Fifty percent hate, fifty percent tremble minus the guts to back yourself!”

I dropped the brush and ran back into my bedroom, questioning and re-questioning my choice of dress for tonight. “Fucking Tony!” I grumbled. “Having a fucking party every week! I’m running out of fucking clothes! Urgh!” I cried and threw a bunch of dresses on to the floor. It wasn’t like I could skip those parties either; as a PR for the Avengers, it was practically in my job description to network and socialise with all of Tony’s guests.

I sank on top of the pile of clothes and dry sobbed. “Why am I like this? Why did I not say ‘no’? I was out! I was out for a few glorious hours and then I had to be an imbecile! Why did I say ‘yes’ to this job in the first place, goddamnit?” I sniffed, took in a breath, threw my head back and shrieked, “ _LOKI!_ ”

I jumped up from my place on the floor, threw on a not-so-dirty-or-stinky dress and went back to the bathroom to re-salvage my hair.

“I should not turn up. I should just not turn up. I can do that, right?” I asked the girl staring back at me. “Right? Yes!” I nodded. She nodded back. I nodded back more enthusiastically. So did she. “Yep. Just not turn up. What is he going to do? Land up at the party by himself?” I laughed, then immediately sobered. “Oh my god, that is exactly what he will do. Shit!”

I ran back out, selected a pair of shoes, ran back into the bathroom and took my final stand against my hair and horribly tired and lifeless looking face. After realising that this was the best I could do in this time and this state of mind, I seized my deodorant and sprayed it on my armpits. After some thought, I sprayed some on to my hands, rubbed them together and rubbed them over my feet. If there was one thing I could control tonight, it would be the smell of my feet. Feeling a surge of confidence that I had no right to be feeling, I picked up my clutch and gave myself one last look-over in the full-length mirror. Not bad. I no longer reeked of wine, the dark circles were gone, my eyes looked bright without looking beady and my body, especially my legs, looked toned, thanks to Clint’s strict regime. 

“You is kind, you is smart, you is important,” I pointed to myself in the mirror. I hoped that was the only quote from The Help I’d be using tonight.

I dashed out of my apartment, hearing the sound of the door banging shut behind me. It locked automatically. How had Loki managed to get in? He had successfully glossed over my question, but I needed to get it out of him. Not only was it my safety under threat, but also the safety of everyone in and outside the Tower. I quickly arrived at the correct floor. As I began walking down the hallway to Loki’s room, a figure met me halfway.

Robson.

Oh shit. 

“I was talking with my pal Carl,” He began, his feet thudding heavily across the hallway, “When he said to me, ‘Hey, Robbie, isn’t it time for you to report to the Asgardian Mussolini’s room?’ And I go, ‘I thought Stark cancelled that! Issues with the PR, you know, the whole morning drama,’ and then he goes, ‘Nah, man, heard no word from either of them. You’d best go up before he chews her out.’” He finished. He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me back the way I came.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” I yelped, trying to remove myself from his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

He shook me and deposited me in front of him. “And, what do you think _he’ll_ do when he sees you? Tickle you?”

“Let me go!”

He did. “Have you forgotten what happened in the morning? Have you forgotten that you called him a ‘horse-fucker’? What do you think is going to happen now? You’re going to shake hands and sing kumbaya?”

“Let’s find out!” I said and tried to sidestep him.

He wasn’t having it. “No.”

“No what?”

“You are _not_ going in there. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not. I want to talk to him.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He roared. “There’s no talking with him! He’s a cold, cruel, manipulative bastard who enjoys watching everyone suffer and you’ve just talked shit to him and called him a bunch of names! You are not going in there!”

Tony, Loki, Robson. Why did all the men keep telling me what to do or how to feel? I thought I could take Tony’s name to get Robson to stand down, but now I realised I would have to do it all by myself.

“Agent Robson, you are charged with keeping me safe, not with telling me what to do. You are also charged with keeping me safe from actual harm, not perceived threats. Therefore, you cannot stop me from doing my job just because you predict there could be trouble. Let me go.” I glared at him and he glared back, nostrils flaring. The temptation to look away was overwhelming, but I clung on. Isn’t that what Loki did too? Intense eye contact and unrelenting glowering. Look at me, drawing people-handling inspiration from a literal misanthrope.

Just when I was beginning to lose hope and my eyes were beginning to water, Robson looked away.

“Go on, then. Let’s see how well you stack up when he’s holding you by your neck again,” He spat.

I blinked at him, more than a little dismayed at his words. But, I had no time to dwell over it. I quickly retraced my steps down the hallway, Robson in tow and entered the apartment.

“Why, look who is back!” That familiar snide voice said.

All the softness and gentleness from an hour ago had vanished from both his demeanour and voice. Had he really taken my hands in his own and cleaned my apartment for me? Or was that just a drunken hallucination? Did Robson have the right of it after all? Only one way to find out. But first, I needed to replay our amnesty for Robson’s benefit, for he could not find out that Loki had dropped by my apartment.

“Look, I’ve come to hash things out. You and I can’t keep going like this. I really just want to do my job. Sorry for all the things I’ve said before. If you are willing, I’m ready to talk. Otherwise, goodbye,” I looked at him meaningfully, subtly inclining my head in Robson’s direction.

It took him no more than a heartbeat to understand what I was doing. He nodded slowly. “I confess your anger is entirely justified. I have not been in the right either. What I did today was cruel. I went too far.”

“So, what now?”

“I propose you come back to work for me. I promise I will treat you better and not hurt you in any way.”

“What’s it to you anyway? You hate this planet and my species.”

He tilted his head. “I do. Stark thinks that I cannot appear to be a likable and responsible individual. I shall take great pleasure in proving him wrong.”

I frowned, taken aback by this deviation from our ‘script.’ “So, you’re just doing this out of spite?”

“Spite is more powerful a motivator than you give it credit, darling,” He smirked.

“I see. Well, if we are to work together, there will be some rules.”

“Name them.” 

“You cannot call me ‘little worm’ or anything derogatory anymore.”

He smiled. “I accept.”

“I will address you as Loki, not ‘sir’ or ‘sire’ or any such formal form of address.”

He pretended to give it some thought, then said, “Very well.”

“And,” I cleared my throat, for this was where _I_ was going to be deviating from the script. “You will not touch me without my consent. You have touched me multiple times without me being okay with it and I want to put an end to it.”

He looked at me searchingly, trying to gauge whether I was being serious. I looked back at him, silently impressing upon him that I certainly was.

“Very well. I accept. Let us sign this agreement with what you Midgardians term a ‘handshake,’ yes?”

He was grinning, the bastard. I understood it was a bit of harmless fun. True, it was brought up precisely because I had said I didn’t want him to touch me, but I could see he meant it innocently. Well, as innocently as a god of mischief could mean something. Still, I couldn’t afford to indulge his antics and think fondly of him. We may have signed a ceasefire, but we had hardly drafted a peace accord.

“Sure,” I said coolly and walked closer to him.

He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I clasped it, looking him straight in the eye. His grip was neither too firm nor too soft. However, the handshake was far from perfect.

“So, you want to hold the webbed skin between the thumb and index finger against mine. Here,” I used my left hand to nudge his right into the correct position.

I could feel his hand stiffen for a split second, before relaxing. He didn’t have a problem taking my hands, but he seemed to mind if I took his. Interesting. Maybe I, as a commoner – or worse, a Midgardian commoner – had to kiss his hand or something like that rather than touch him. But, if that were the case, then he would not have asked me to do shake hands in the first place.

“Put your thumb on my hand,” I said, consciously more gently. “And, don’t dig it in. A firm grip is good. Pressing down on my bone is not.”

He relaxed the pressure on my hand. 

“And, don’t splay your fingers. Keep them together. And, don’t grab my wrist. Keep your fingers wrapped around my hand. Same thing with the pressure.” 

“Why not?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Why can you not grab the wrist? Surely, that would provide a much firmer grip.”

“You’re there to greet people, not kidnap them and/or twist their wrist,” I said. _Not to mention, it screams of trying to control them_ , I added mentally, but did not say it aloud for I knew what reaction that would evoke from a control-freak like him.

I pried my hand from his grip and said, “Let’s try that again.” I extended my hand and he studied mine, trying to copy it. “So, you want your hand to be completely upright. Palm facing the other person’s palm, thumb on top, fingers relaxed and not held together. Don’t curl your hand, don’t make the palm face the floor and don’t let it face the ceiling.”

I adjusted his hand slightly and then let him extend it again. “Good, just like that,” I commented when he carefully, but not tentatively, gripped my hand like I had shown him. “Now, let’s try shaking it. One,” I slowly moved his hand parallel to the wall up, down then back to the original spot, “Two,” I repeated the motion.

He tried it himself, brow ever so slightly furrowed in concentration.

“Yup, just like that. Just a little faster and brisker. Like this,” I shook his hand at the appropriate speed and height now.

He insisted on doing it thrice more, all the way from extending his hand to retracting it. 

“Yup, just like that!” I couldn’t help but grin a little. If you’d have told me two months ago that I’d be taking an alien’s – leave alone Loki’s – measurements and teaching him the handshake, I would’ve laughed and said, ‘When pigs fly.’ Now, I wasn't sure about either of those things. Most likely, pigs did fly in the anti-gravity chambers. Anything was possible in Avengers Tower. “So, usually it’s just two, at most three, shakes. When you’re in front of the camera and you’ve, I don’t know, signed an accord or met a dignitary, you might shake their hand for longer. When you’re with someone you know, you might even shake their hand with one hand and hug them with the other arm, and maybe even thump their back a little with the other hand. It all depends on the context.” 

He nodded slightly, taking it all in. Then, he scoffed softly, “Making walls out of eyelashes, Midgardians.”

I laughed in confusion. “Making a what out of what, now?”

“Making a big matter out of a small one. How do you say it? Ah, yes, ‘Making a mountain out of a molehill.’”

“I don’t see how you can make a wall out of eyelashes.”

“I do not see how you can make a mountain out of a molehill,” He retorted.

I rolled my eyes.

“It comes from a creation myth,” He explained. “Yours, in fact. Your interpretation of the Norse gods. We found it amusing how you could think that the ‘walls’ that seemingly protect your world could be made out of the eyelashes of a dead giant.”

I studied him curiously. “Do you have creation myths, too? Your own, I mean. Not those that we have but, I guess, the original ones.”

“Yes, of course. They are less steeped in religion and gods, of course, for how can a race of gods worship gods in turn?”

I snorted. “Sounds akin to ‘Who watches the watchmen?’”

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” Loki recited. “Who will guard the guards themselves? Whom will the gods worship? Whom will the gods be worshiped by? Yes, I suppose you can make that analogy.”

I gaped at him. “You know Latin?”

He looked at me as if I’d just eaten dirt. “Who do you think I am? Thor? Of course I know Latin! I am not a motley-minded simpleton compensating for the lack of brain cells with my musculature.

“Okay, okay! Jeez! Fine, point taken!” I tried to make an ‘I surrender’ gesture with my palms, but I realised we were still holding each other’s hands loosely. “Also, for the record, for the handshake I just taught you, we don’t hold hands for longer than two seconds.”

He let go of my hand immediately and clasped his other behind his back. I was relieved he didn’t do something as obnoxious as wipe his hand on his thigh.

“I was just surprised,” I said, once we had both gone back to neutral territory, “Given how you think so lowly of us and our planet.”

“I believe in studying the culture and history of a place, no matter how primitive its peoples might be.”

“Congratulations, you just sounded like a colonialist. An informed colonialist, but a colonialist all the same." 

He shrugged. “A colonialist aims to settle the occupied land with his own people. I assure you, I had no intention of bringing Asgardians to your planet. Or Jötunn, for that matter,” He added bitterly. 

I sighed. It was not worth it. I simply had to accept that I was never going to get used to his mood swings. Plus, his attitude towards humans was going to be an ongoing project that would not be resolved in a single day.

“If the two of you are done chit-chatting,” Robson suddenly piped up, “It’s time to make a move.”

I turned back to Loki. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?” I looked him over. As much as I hated to, I had to admit that he looked fine. His white shirt highlighted his toned torso without making him look too sleazy. His black pants were slim-fitting, which brought out his height and, of course, the build of his legs, rather nicely. His hair was slicked back as usual, giving him the appearance of someone who had put just the right amount of time into his hairdo, but neither too much time or too much hair gel that it looked like he had not shampooed his hair for weeks on end. Yup, he looked better than I could’ve imagined.

“Is this the correct way of donning Midgardian fashion?”

It had escaped my mind that he was not used to wearing such clothes. I looked at him more carefully, making sure the shirt was tucked in, the buttons were in the right holes and, most importantly, the fly was up. “It’s all good,” I confirmed. Then, a thought struck me. “Hey, wait a minute. I’ve seen you wear human clothes before.”

He looked at me oddly. “Yes.”

I waited for an explanation. I knew he understood what I wanted to know, but the bastard was going to make me explicitly say it anyway. “So, why are you asking me if you’re wearing them correctly or not?”

“I merely wish to confirm,” He stated stiffly.

“Sure.” It was my turn to look at him oddly. “Okay, let’s go.”

“No.”

“Now what?” I exclaimed.

He looked at me in amusement. “You need to put on that garment I believe you call a ‘tie.’ I do not know how to don it.” 

“You don’t need a tie. It’s a party, not a meeting.”

“I wish to wear it all the same. As it is, I am not wearing a suit, but I cannot afford to look even more casual than this in a gathering.”

“Not wearing a tie doesn’t equate to being improperly dressed. It’s a casual setting. You put on a tie, you’ll look too formal.”

“A prince of Asgard must always look regal and appropriately dressed,” He said snootily. “You will tie the tie, Midgardian.”

What had got into him? Why did he think he knew better than me about human males’ fashion and dressing as per human social contexts? There was no point arguing for I knew he wasn’t going to budge unless I strangled his scrawny neck with a tie. Maybe I should do that. He wouldn’t need to know that tying a tie didn’t involve strangulation.

 _You is kind, you is strong, you is important,_ I muttered to myself. _And you is better than this. You is better than this. You is better than this._

“Fine! Where’s the bloody thing?”

He smirked at me and I replaced my fantasy of strangling him to stuffing his mouth with the tie. “Here,” He gestured behind him to the centre table, where a black silk tie rested. On the sofa where I would usually sit, many different suit cover bags lay propped against the back. Each of them had labels, detailing the colour, build and material of the suit. Aside from separate bags containing an assortment of shirts and pants that could be teamed up with the suits, there was also a selection of cravats, shoes and, of course, neckties that someone, probably Francesca, had helpfully thrown in.

“I chose the black tie to go along with the black pants. I trust this works?”

It was a question. He actually wanted my opinion. I looked at him in surprise, chewing my lip. The black on black was certainly a classic and he would rock it. On the other hand, it was too much black and all the black was precisely what I had wanted to avoid in the first place.

“It’s fine,” I shrugged.

He arched an eyebrow. “Speak freely.”

“It is.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I asked your opinion and you will give me an honest one.”

I relented. “Fine, I’d rather go for,” I rummaged about the selection and found one that caught my eye. It was navy blue woven silk. “This,” I held it up for him.

He peered at it for a moment, before nodding slowly. “It is suitable.”

I looked at him in astonishment. Not only had he asked for my opinion, but he had actually agreed with it. What was the world coming to? Was I still inebriated? But, I knew it was real. And somehow, I understood that this was his way of making up, if not apologising, for his stunt in the morning. This time, he wasn’t mucking around; he genuinely wanted my help. He also genuinely wanted my opinion. For some weird reason that was not to do with a crazy version of his power-play games, he had wanted me to be open with him. 

Before I could give it any more thought, he stepped forward, regarding me expectantly. I shuffled closer to him, closing the distance between us. I could smell his cologne. It was sharp, but subtle and pleasant. I craned my neck up and saw he was looking at me, curiously, but not mirthfully, the way he had in the morning when we had been in this exact position. I felt as awkward as before, but not from the humiliation. Rather, it was the perceived intimacy of this act that flustered me. It felt too intimate tying a man’s tie. Should I tell him about it? Make it out to be some cultural taboo even? I dismissed the idea quickly. He would only capitalise on my discomfort. I shook my head internally and steeled myself. It was just a tie. It wasn’t as if saleswomen didn’t help men with their ties or secretaries with their bosses, and probably PRs for their clients, in totally non-romantic and safe-for-work contexts every day. No need to sweat a pool over it.

I reached up and tugged the collar and opened the collar button. He could wear a tie all he liked, but I wasn't letting him go around with a closed collar button tonight. Screw him for thinking he knew better than me. He arched his head and I saw a vein on his neck stand out. Damn. I looped the tie around his neck, deciding that a simple four-in-hand knot would work the best and be the most convenient. I adjusted the lengths on each side, pulled the wide end over the narrow end, brought it under and through the neck loop and pushed it through the knot. Blessedly, the knot looked tidy and I began tugging the narrow end to lend shape to the knot and pushing it towards the collar. My palms rested against the knot and his shirt as I adjusted the tie and I hoped I wasn’t leaving sweat stains on either of them. I finally reached the top, pulled down the collar and patted the tie once.

“All done,” I sang.

He nodded. “I appreciate your help.”

“You're problem!” I spluttered, before I realised my mistake. “I – I mean, I meant to say ‘You’re welcome,’ but then I started saying ‘No problem’ so, yeah.”

His lips twitched. He stepped away and walked towards the door. “Shall we?”

I realised I hadn’t moved. “No!”

He turned around. “Why not?” 

I came up to him, as close as I had been a few second ago and lifted his right hand. I tugged open the cuff button and rolled the cuff to below his elbow. I folded the cloth up the rest of the way, made sure it looked neat, then did the same thing with the other arm.

He arched an eyebrow.

“It looks better this way,” I declared.

He raised the second eyebrow as well. 

“Trust me.”

He looked at me sharply. I looked back, trying to appear as benign as possible. And then, just as quickly as a summer cloud passes over the sun, his face cleared of any doubt and he relaxed and nodded. I smiled slightly and I fancied I could see the corners of his lips lift.

“Shall we?” He asked again.

I took in a deep breath and nodded. “We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score's still 4-4
> 
> 2\. If I don't write about the party next chapter, feel free to murder me.
> 
> 3\. Just curious, would people be interested in a chapter next week and the week after the next (21st and 28th)? 
> 
> 4\. Love you guys <3 Thank you so much for getting me to 4k hits! <3


	17. That Time We Attended a Party - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take Loki to his first party at the Avengers Tower.

_“Shall we?” He asked again._

_I took in a deep breath and nodded. “We shall.”_

* * *

 

We had barely taken another step towards the door when Robson stopped us. 

“You,” He pointed at Loki. “Wait here. And you,” He pointed at me. “Come out.”

I didn’t get a chance to see Loki’s reaction, for Robson had parked himself between us. I didn’t want to start a cat fight with him in front of Loki, so I wordlessly complied. Once we were out and Robson had made sure the door was shut, he fished about in his pocket and took out an ear piece.

“Now, I don’t intend to leave your side throughout the evening, but just in case something happens or we need to relay something to you, we’ll do it through this,” He handed me the device. “Put it on.”

I did as he said. “Thank you.”

He watched me warily. “What was going on in there?”

“What do you mean?”

“You damn well know what I mean!”

I flinched. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You think for a second that I believed that sham of an apology?” He barked. “You take me to be an idiot?”

“No, no!” I exclaimed, horrified.

“What has been going on? What has he done?” He leaned closer, eyes glinting.

“Nothing! I don’t know!”

“Oh, so he just brushes off everything you’ve said? And, you brush off everything he’s done and said as well?”

My heart leapt into my mouth. What if he found out that Loki had come a-knocking on my door? He was going to review the footage, just like he had with Francesca in the morning, and I would be dead. Worse than dead, actually. I’d be sentenced to life at best and executed at worst. “We made up, you saw it!”

“All I saw was something that sounded so rehearsed you might as well be performing it on stage!”

My heart fell downwards to my stomach. I was trembling all over and I wouldn’t have been surprised if my teeth were chattering, too. “It’s not –”

But, before I could say anything else, Robson looked away, frowning. I trembled on spot for what felt like a minute, growing increasingly worried I was going to collapse, before he turned back to me.

“They say it’s time to bring him up,” He said, calmer now.

“They?” I asked, unsurely.

“His security detail.”

It took a few seconds for me to put two and two together. I looked around, surprised I hadn’t noticed the emptiness of the usually-full corridor before. “Ah, that’s why the corridor is empty.”

“Yep.” He looked hard at me.

“Should we go?” I asked, beginning to squirm again.

“Yep.”

I took in a shaky breath and moved closer to the door. 

“If you’re praying that I forget what has been going on, then you’re wasting your time.”

I froze.

“I don’t know what has been going on, but trust me, I _will_ find out.”

He didn’t have to come closer to me to intimidate me, for it was not a threat – it was a certainty.

“You keep telling me that you have to do your job. And, sure, I accept that. And, I’ll give you the benefit of doubt that you don’t know what you’re playing at. But, I don’t need to be your Stella Lee to tell you that right now, you were acting above your paygrade.” 

I wanted to say something, but it felt as if my tongue were stuck to the roof of my mouth. Even if I could have, however, I wasn’t sure what I would have said. I shrank further into myself. He was right. What had I been doing really? To anyone else who did not know Loki and my history, the cuff-rolling and the tie-tying – hell, even the handshake – would have looked decidedly inappropriate. And, I hadn’t been too subtle either. But, to Robson, who knew all of my history minus Loki’s and my heart-to-heart, it would have looked downright shocking.

But, it wasn’t just the lack of context he was getting at here. It was the fact that Loki was... well, who he was.

“Like I said, I think even you don’t know what you’re doing. So, you do your job to your best. And, I will do mine. That doesn’t just involve keeping an eye out for you; it also involves keeping an eye on him. But, you can be sure that from now on, I will be keeping an eye on you as well. You got that, _Lackey_?”

It wasn’t just a nickname anymore. He had branded me as an object of suspicion, an actual sycophant.

“Yes,” I said, shuddering, unable to meet his eyes.

“Good. Now, fetch him out.” He buzzed me in.

Without looking at Loki, I mumbled, any semblance of a good mood shattered, “Come on.”

If he was intrigued by my soberness, he didn’t comment. He followed me wordlessly for once and I was grateful for that. We walked in uncomfortable silence, me crumbling inside at the idea of what was in store for me, Robson probably glowering at us from behind and Loki thinking he alone knew what. The elevator ride was even more awkward, if that were possible. I stared straight ahead, hair’s width of a trigger away before I dissolved into ugly crying. I wanted a hug. Or better, a cuddle. I wanted to cry out into someone’s shoulder. How long had it been since I had been hugged? 

The elevator door opened to reveal the familiar colossal living room come alive. People were chattering, glasses were tinkling and somewhere, the Iron Suit was buzzing, probably. The parties had lost their charm after a while, but this familiar sight was always enough to get me warmed up and ready to roll. Yet never before I had entered a party in such a gloomy mood, nor failed to be cheered by the scene before me, as was the case today.

“I’ll be around,” Robson muttered and moved off to the side, not out of earshot, but far enough to not appear as if he were keeping tabs on us.

“Well,” Loki turned to the side to face me, “Here we are at this grand gala of meaningless celebration. What do we do, now?”

Good question. I had been so consumed by the idea of getting Loki to the party that I had not given any thought to what I would do if he actually got there.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged.

He sniggered. “You were not expecting to succeed, I take it?”

“No,” I admitted. “I thought that if Tony and you accept, then I can think about it after the fitting. But, _someone_ had to be an ass, hadn’t they?”

He arched an eyebrow. “If I do not get to call you unsavoury names, then I expect you to extend me the same courtesy.”

I gawked at him. The audacity…

“Please shut your mouth. Your lack of manners is making me uncomfortable,” He said. 

My head recoiled in incredulity. “ _My_ lack of manners? What about yours? You still haven’t acknowledged that time you made me sort your bookshelf and wash your dishes!”

“Do you really want to do this here?”

I narrowed my eyes. “We’re not done talking about this. You and I are going to sit down and have a proper chat,” I said, loudly enough for Robson to hear.

He arched his eyebrow again, no doubt trying to work out – or, probably already having worked out – what had transpired between me and the SHIELD agent.

“I would be disappointed if we were not,” He remarked.

Something about the way he said it, neither dry not obviously humourous, made me smile. A smile that I quickly covered with a scowl once I realised I had slipped up yet again in front of Robson. I needed to get Loki alone. I needed to figure out how he had managed to leave the penthouse levels unnoticed. And, I needed to figure out my exit plan, because once – not if – Robson found out, I was ruined.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” I grumbled and began leading him to the bar.

“You know I cannot get drunk on Midgardian alcohol, right?”

“I know. I don’t know if this happened when you were here or not, but Thor finished all the coffee in the entire Tower one party when everyone wanted to see just how much coffee he could drink before he died of a heart attack.”

“I remember that night – and the days after that. He was insufferable. The euphoria from the caffeine lasted for all too long. I wish he _had_ died.”

So caught up was I in my dismay that I did not notice the bartender trying to get my attention. Loki nudged me and I snapped to reality.

“Um, a Cosmo, please.” I turned back to Loki. “Last chance, what do you want?”

He shrugged.

“Do you even drink?” 

“Of course I do.”

“So, do you want something?”

The bastard – I was still allowed to call him that in my head, and I was sure he still called me worm in his head as well – shrugged again.

I rolled my eyes. “A Painkiller for him,” I said and mumbled to myself, “Because he’s being a real pain in the ass right now." 

“Did you say something, darling?” He asked, in a tone that indicated that he didn’t really need to ask.

“Nope.” I smiled fake-sweetly.

We leaned against the bar counter, taking in the view before us. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked interested but not impressed. He was probably used to the lavish celebrations on Asgard. I imagined they would have longtables filled with all sorts of roasted animals and barrels of ale and wine, bawdy singing closer to the back and soulful music closer to the head of the table. The current party was naturally geared towards 21st century Earth inhabitants. It was certainly lavish by modern standards. There were tall indoor pine trees, lit up with fairy lights. A dance floor at the uppermost level overlooked the rest of the party, people already going hard at the dancing and sweating their svedka lime sweat. A live jazz band was playing not too far from the bar. I searched for familiar faces. I saw a lot of my colleagues and friends I'd made at the parties. Among the Avengers, everyone save Captain Rogers was present.

“Oh, and, for the record," I said. "You have to stop being so mean outwardly. No one who’s got a shred of a heart string in them wishes Thor were dead.”

“I do,” He piped up.

“Like I said, stop.”

“Are you telling me that I should not be myself?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. Do Midgardians not emphasise the philosophy of ‘being themselves?’”

“You’re an exception.”

“Yes, that is right,” He said, supremely pleased with himself, “I am exceptional.”

“An exceptional tool,” I retorted, confident that he didn’t know what ‘tool’ meant as a slang.

His smile faded, clearly unsure about the meaning of what I’d said, but too proud to ask for clarification. The bartender handed us our drinks and I raised my glass to Loki.

“Cheers.”

“Skål.” He tapped his against mine.

I glared at him. “No ‘Skål.’" 

He laughed. “Cheers,” He amended.

I looked at him over the rim of my glass, interested to see if he will like it. He sampled the drink, face devoid of any expression.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“What is in it?”

“Rum, coconut, pineapple juice, orange juice and some nutmeg on top.”

“Hmm,” He commented, but refused to say anything more. Then, after a few more sips, he asked, “What is in your drink?”

“It’s a Cosmopolitan. ‘Cosmo’ for short. Vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice and orange juice,” I answered. Then, I added, “Would you like to try it?”

He looked at the glass, eyes gleaming. Then, he scoffed. “I do not want to sip from your glass.”

My mood dipped again. “No need to be such a toad about it. It’s not like I’ve got herpes.”

“We agreed to not call each other names,” He said sternly.

I clucked my tongue. “Fine! No need to be such a snob about it!” I moved away from the bar, partly to stop obstructing it and partly to get away from Loki.

He followed me, scanning the party and sucking through the straw with gusto. Someone liked their drink, apparently.

“Speaking of Thor,” He jutted his head to the side. I followed his gaze and sure enough, there he was, tossing Mjolnir up in the air for the benefit of an increasingly enthralled audience. Even across the room I could hear his hearty laugh and feel the power of his presence. He was having fun with his role, but his eyes kept darting about in search for something. It didn’t take us long to figure out – or him to find – what he was looking for.

“LO–” He bellowed, so loud that half the party turned to look at him.

I jumped in alarm and Loki stiffened.

“-CATION! LOCATION!” He completed, having realised his almost-catastrophic almost-slip-up. He quickly wrapped up whatever yarn he was spinning to the throng of admirers and then began making his way towards us.

“My brother, a study in subtlety,” Loki said, disgustedly.

I gulped down more of my drink. If I wasn’t going to die from the stress tonight, then I was definitely going to die from alcohol poisoning.

“Greetings, my friends!” Thor beamed. He took my right hand in both of his – two big paws – and shook it. “My lady Scandal! How I have missed you!”

I giggled. “I’ve missed you too!” Indeed, the last time I’d seen him was two weeks ago on Monday, when he’d come to check in on me after that disastrous lunch.

“And, mister…” He trailed off, looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes, not impressed by his brother’s attempts at espionage.

“Lucas,” I supplied.

“Mr. Lucas!” He clapped Loki on the back. “Welcome! Eat! Drink! Make merry! Any friend of Lady Scandal is a friend of ours!”

I giggled again. He was a golden retriever personified, filled with liquid sunshine.

“How are you, Thor?” I asked him, truly happy for the first time today.

“I am well, thank you. I must say, when Tony told me of your endeavour, I could not contain my excitement. I am truly happy to see you succeed. I cannot thank you enough for not giving up on Mr. Lucas, here,” Thor again took my hand in his.

Lucas – Loki – looked anything but happy. He watched our interaction with mounting sourness.

“It’s not been easy,” I said, drily. “As you can see, it has left me feeling and looking worse for the wear.”

“Nonsense!” Thor protested. “You look as beautiful as ever!”

I let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. “Oh, you’re too kind!” I gushed. 

“How wrong of you, Thor,” Loki butt in. “She looks more beautiful tonight than any other day.”

Thor looked dumbstruck - or perhaps, thunderstruck. I looked at him in equal parts dread and confusion. I waited for the axe to fall, and as sure as dawn, it fell.

“I have never seen her in something so… revealing.” His eyes swept down my body. “Perhaps if you wore skirts more often, I would be more used to the sight.”

I had hoped he had forgotten, but clearly, he still remembered that time we first met. It was for this very reason I had not worn a skirt throughout my time here, constantly afraid that he would keep bringing it up. Still, it had been two months ago, and I would’ve thought he’d got all his kicks from making fun of how I’d jumped up on the counter and ended up spreading my legs in that fateful interview.

“Wow, who would’ve thought you liked looking up my skirt so much that you’ve been pining away for a second look?” I hoped I sounded sassy and not shaky.

He smiled evilly. “It has been entirely too long, my dear. You have nothing to be ashamed of, especially now that Clint is helping you with your fitness regime.”

“Don’t make me throw my drink on you!” I snarled.

“It will only be your loss,” He said, cavalier. 

“You’re right!” I said sweetly. “Don’t make me throw _your_ drink on your face!”

Thor stepped in on my behalf. “Brot-” He began, then changed it to ‘Bro,’ testing the unfamiliar slang on his tongue. “Bro,” He said, not entirely comfortably, “Is this how mother taught you to treat a lady?”

“I told you, stop dragging mother into everything!” Loki gritted his teeth. “Speaking of treating ladies, what _do_ you do with yours, Thor?”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked, taken aback.

“Your Jane Foster.”

“Yes, I know, that is the only lady I have.”

“I worry for her sometimes.”

“By Odin’s beard, what do you mean?”

“Why does she wail like a dying cat at night?”

Oh snap.

Thor’s face flushed red, all traces of his joviality gone. “Have care of how you speak of Jane!”

“Are you really that terrible in the bed? She sounds terribly upset with whatever you have been doing.”

_What the fuck?_

“Stop your wittering _right now_ ,” Thor warned.

“I am just expressing my concern,” Loki said glibly. “By the sound of it, she would rather take the Aether again than suffer at your clumsy hands.”

“ _Loki,_ ” Thor rumbled, low enough for it to be audible only to us three. “Do not tempt me to put Mjolnir on your chest for the rest of the night.”

He cackled. “Is that what you say to her as well?”

_What the fucking fuck?_

“Loki!” He growled again, this time louder. I looked around us in alarm, half expecting the gathering to start screaming in terror any moment.

“Not pleasant to hear, is it?” Loki smirked. “Well, neither is your and Jane’s yowling. Contain yourselves. I want to hear absolutely nothing from your side of the floor at night.”

Thor flushed redder, embarrassment now mingling with anger. “You are just miffed that you do not get to have the company of a lady.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you to believe a lady is whom I desire.”

Thor rolled his eyes, his expression looking uncannily similar to his brother’s, even though they were as different as day and night.

“Yes, thank you, for indulging us with the tales of your exploits,” Thor said. 

Was I tripping on the cocktail of the Advil and alcohol or was I actually hearing this?

“I only wish you would stop regaling me with yours. Unless, of course, Jane’s loud wailing and warbling is an open invitation, in which case, I accept.” His voice dropped an octave as he added, “It has been so long since I saw her. What would I not give to be slapped by the lovely Jane Foster again?”

I spat my drink.

“Enough!” Thor bellowed and lunged at Loki. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” I exclaimed, trying to keep them apart. “Enough! Both of you!”

But, how was a puny human like me going to contain two gods from space? Thankfully, that was when Robson, Clint and Agent Romanov stepped in. Clint grabbed Thor while Natasha wedged herself between the brothers. 

“Everything’s fine!” Clint announced with a forced cheeriness for the benefit of the crowd that was watching the latest in the Avengers soap opera. “Thor, did you drink all the coffee again?”

The veteran partygoers laughed at that. Clint flashed them a toothy smile, then firmly pulled away Thor, who refused to look in our direction.

“It’s not been five minutes since we arrived and you’re already making life miserable for everyone,” I hissed.

“I strive for consistency,” He sniffed.

“Why don’t you try striving for keeping your mouth shut, for now?” Natasha quipped.

“Are you going to make me, Agent Romanov?” He asked silkily.

“Will you stop with the sexual harassment?” I snapped.

“Dare I ask what that conversation with Thor was about?” She asked me, drily.

I flushed, too second-hand embarrassed to repeat what had just transpired. Loki was pleased at my hesitation and opened his mouth yet again to fill the silence. I quickly jumped in, unwilling to let him spew more verbal muck. 

“He was making a pass at Dr. Foster.”

She made a face. “Hitting on the brother’s girlfriend? At least do something more original.”

“That is an inaccurate summary. I was not –” He began.

She wagged her finger. “Shh! The women are talking.”

I turned my snort into a cough. I checked out her look for tonight and it didn’t take me long to come to the conclusion that she looked stunning. Like always. Tonight she was wearing a black cocktail dress. It was simply made, but she didn’t need anything fancy to bring out her beauty – just her artfully styled red hair and that perfect red liquid matte lipstick. 

“So, it’s been two months for you come Monday, yes?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am! Natasha. I meant Natasha,” I hastily added after I saw her pin me with a glare. 

“Relax, golubushka. I’m not here to kill _you_.” She fixed her glare at Loki.

“Sorry,” I gushed. “I know you’ve told me. It’s just that you’re so…” I trailed off, embarrassed by my fangirling.

“So…?” She smirked.

“I don’t know!” I squawked. “Je ne sais pas! Tu as un je ne sais quoi!”

“Hon hon hon!”

“Oui. Baguette.” We both laughed. I found it terribly amusing that this badass, no-nonsense assassin could be such a dork outside work. I was doubly pleased to note that Loki looked thoroughly confused at what had just happened.

“So, you’re here to stay, huh?”

I shrugged. “God alone knows.”

Natasha swiftly turned to Loki. “That wasn’t a pun or a space for another ‘which god’ joke, by the way.”

Before he could say anything, she turned her attention back to me and continued, “So, I should probably learn your name and stop calling you by Tony’s silly nickname.”

She already knew it, of course. She had been there for my interview and besides, it was her job to know things. That’s why her hair was so big; it was full of secrets. I snorted at the completely gratuitous reference. Apparently, I was running a Mean Girls marathon today. 

“Wait, you mean to say you even know my nickname?” I exclaimed, pretending to be star struck. “Oh my gosh, she knows my nickname!”

She shook her head in mock exasperation. Then, becoming serious, she said, “It’s nice to see you ease up a little.

“Evening, ladies,” Clint interrupted, having come back from wherever he had escorted Thor to. He nodded at me and Natasha, squarely refusing to acknowledge Loki.

“You know that’s the third time this evening you’re saying ‘Evening’ to me?” Natasha teased.

“Yes, Barton, think of what all you could have done with that third ‘Evening’. You could have even said it to me,” Loki said blithely.

“Why?” Clint asked, sipping his beer. “It sure as hell stopped being a good one when I saw you.”

“You wound me,” Loki put his hand to his chest. “And to think that I dressed especially for you.”

Clint grimaced. “I really don’t know how to interpret that sentence.”

“Why, Agent Barton, what an active imagination you have!”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t pay him any attention. He’s been doing this all evening.”

“I heard,” Clint drawled. “Seriously, man? All the ways you could get under his skin and the girlfriend is what you go for?”

“It was not my intention to get under his skin.”

“Yeah, just as I’m not better than Annie Oakley herself.”

“You’re better than Annie Oakley?” I asked, in awe.

He shrugged a shoulder and Natasha playfully hit him.

“Wow, Clint,” I exhaled.

“So modest,” Natasha said.

“Annie Oakley was one of the world’s best sharpshooters,” I said, for Loki’s benefit. “I’ve read that she could shoot a cigarette out of her husband’s mouth,” I added and looked to Clint for confirmation. He nodded.

“Of course, there’s no one who can rival Clint today,” Natasha supplied. 

A sappy smile came on his face. But, just as the tension eased, Loki amped it up again.

“Such an excellent marksman, indeed. So deadly that he could not shoot Director Fury at point blank range.”

Clint bristled.

“Loki,” Natasha said, warningly.

There was a long and awkward silence, throughout the entirety of which Loki looked infuriatingly pleased with himself.

Then, Clint spoke up.“You know what, man? I don’t really say this much, but you’re an asshole. A complete, utter asshole.”

For not the first, and probably not the last, time this night, I wondered what was going on. The tension was so thick it would have taken a saw to cut through it. Natasha had her hand on Clint’s shoulder, either in an attempt to comfort him or to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

Loki opened his mouth but she cut him off again. “One more word from you and I will call Bruce here,” She muttered.

His mouth clamped shut and his stance became rigid. I noted this with ever rising bafflement and more than a tiny flicker of curiosity. Why was Loki feeling so uncomfortable at the thought of the mild-mannered Dr. Banner coming over here?

Natasha was done with Loki’s antics, for she didn’t even wait for him to play up again before calling, “Bruce!” 

I turned around to where she was looking. Dr. Banner’s eyes darted about everywhere, trying to find the source of the voice, when he caught sight of us. He grinned when he saw Natasha, but when he saw whom she was standing next to, his grin collapsed and he moved elsewhere, pretending to not have heard her.

“Bruce, I know you heard me!” She cried. “Come here!”

He hopped around on one foot and the other before realising he had no choice. Utterly miserably, he made his way towards us.

“Nat,” He greeted. “Clint.” Then, he nodded at me. I was still not sure if he remembered who or what I was. Then, with a heavy sigh, he added, “Loki.”

Loki had been miffed when Clint hadn’t greeted him when he’d come. Yet now that someone had acknowledged him, he couldn’t have looked further away from happy. 

“Bruce,” He replied tersely.

I hadn’t thought it was possible for Loki to look any paler than his natural skin colour, but I was wrong. Right now, he almost looked like a corpse.

“Um, um, I’ll just go say hi to some other friends, now.” Dr. Banner tried shuffling away.

“No. Stay,” Natasha said, firmly.

“Is everything okay?” I asked tentatively. I should probably have kept my mouth shut, too.

“Yes, of course,” She said, easily, but I wasn’t fooled. “Are you alright, Loki?”

“Does it comfort you to fall back to the same old intimidation tactic every single time?” Loki said, trying to play it off cool, but I knew him well enough by now to sense that he was flustered.

“Hey, if it ain’t broke!” She said, good-naturedly. Then, her visage hardened. “Final warning. Act up again this way tonight and I will play a certain security footage to entertain the crowd. Act up in any other way and I will put you in an actual cell.”

He cocked his head. “Received and understood, Agent. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a drink to refill.”

My jaw dropped. I had loved Natasha Romanov since the first day I’d met her, when she had helped me calm down after Loki had scared me shitless. Now, I loved her even more. Any woman who could bully Loki of Asgard into submission - regardless of how the hell she had managed to do it - deserved utmost adulation. I should take lessons from her. Loki made a motion to sidestep her. Immediately, Robson and three other undercover SHIELD agents in the vicinity jumped to attention. Robson looked at me, silently asking my permission. I nodded and stepped behind Loki.

“It’s okay, the boys will babysit him for a while,” Natasha said. “Come, talk with us. You deserve a break.”

I watched the agents escort Loki back to the bar. Would Robson pummel him for information? Would Loki throw me under the bus to save his skinny ass?

My worry must have shown on my face, for Natasha commented on it. “Everything okay?” 

“Yup,” I fibbed. Her eyes that had seemed so sparkling and welcoming now looked cold and probing to me. She was a spy. Was she going to interrogate me? Was it going to be painful? Was I going to be waterboarded? “Um, just his attitude, really,” I half lied. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint said. “I’ve seen him at his ‘royal pain in the neck’ best. This is not even approaching it.” 

I nodded, unconvinced.

"Clint has been keeping me up to date about your training progress," She said in an effort to change the topic. "You're doing well."

"Oh, he's just a great teacher. And endlessly patient with a klutz like me."

"He is one of the best teachers you could get," She agreed, "But, a good teacher can't do much without a good student."

A goofy smile appeared on my face. "You're too kind. Thank you."

"Nah, I'm not. Keep up the good work, though. Maybe I'll get to teach you how to kick ass in a dress and stilettos soon."

The idea of Black Widow personally training me both terrified and amazed me. "Oh, no, you don't have to!"

"I know. But, I want to. We'll see. I'm not as fair and encouraging as Clint here," She nudged him with her shoulder, "So, we'll wait to see if you can pass his test, then we'll take a call."

"Gosh, thank you, Natasha. And, you too, Clint. Everyone's been so nice to me. Thank you," I said, unable to convey my earnestness in my words.

Clint finally smiled. I was relieved to see his good mood reappear. "We've got to compensate for Sith Lord's assholery."

Natasha gasped. "Was that a nickname? I'm telling Tony!"

"That was _not_ a nickname, Tash. It's a general descriptor. A nickname would be something specific, like 'Darth Vader.'"

"Uh huh. Sure."

"And, who's to say I didn't say 'shit' instead of 'Sith?' It's my word over yours."

"You wanna play that game with me, Barty?"

"Stop calling me that!" Clint groaned, then turned his attention back to me. “Have you been able to unwind a bit? You look rather tense,” He asked.

Did he mean unwind? Or did he mean “unwind” unwind, as per his recommendation in our first workout session?

“Eh, it’s been a long day. I’ve been up since six.” _And drinking my weight  in alcohol,_ I added mentally.

He noticed I had dodged the question, but didn’t follow up on it. 

“Oh, wait, you’re the PR!” Dr. Banner exclaimed.

 I smiled. “Yup, everyone calls me Scandal.” I had already introduced myself to him four times prior to today and he had forgotten my name, so this time, I settled on just the nickname.

“What is it like to do PR for someone who is…?” He asked softly.

“Irredeemable?” I asked.

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, I suppose.”

I pondered over it for a moment. “Well, it’s tough. Especially when he’s in one of his moods, like right now. He’s not completely bad, though. Mostly bad, yeah. But not completely. I haven’t been able to do much work for him, but the party’s a start.”

He nodded slowly. “Good luck,” He said sincerely.

“It’s nice to see you’ve settled in and are in-sync with everything,” Natasha said.

“It’s not been easy. I still feel a little out of sorts sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah, I can imagine,” She said. “But, you’ve already stuck around for two months. Just four more weeks and you will have broken the record for his longest serving PR.”

“Oh, goody.”

She laughed. “Don’t get too comfortable around him, though. With him, it’s always best to be on your toes. The second he thinks you’ve been lulled into false sense of security is the second you will be taken on a rollercoaster ride.”

“Yeah,” I sighed heavily. She had no idea just how right she was. “Yeah.”

“Man, I’m starving,” Clint broke in. “Have you eaten anything?” He asked me.

“I had toast and peanut butter at three,” I confessed. The bread and cheese that I’d bought earlier that evening had been ruined by the wine. Even if they hadn’t been, I would still have not had enough time to snack on them. 

“Was that your lunch?”

“And breakfast,” I admitted.

Clint’s eyes widened. “Come on, Scandal, you need to take care of yourself! We can’t have you fainting when you’ve got that..." He say Natasha waiting for him to slip up, so decided to play it safe, "Guy... and decided to keep an eye on. And, Tony will never forgive me if I let you starve on my watch. Let’s get something to munch on!”

We gave a passing waiter our empty glasses. “See you around, Natasha! Dr. Banner!” I said as I began following Clint. They waved back at me, then began walking to somewhere else.

“How you doing, buddy?” Clint asked as we made our way to the buffet table.

“Alright. You?” I wanted to ask him about that bit Loki had brought up about shooting Director Fury, but refrained. It seemed like a sensitive topic.

“Good. I’m guessing that suit fitting went well today, given that he’s wearing fancy clothes and strutting about tonight?”

I swallowed. “Yep. Yep.”

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you with my question back there. I didn’t mean it _that_ way.”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s fine!” I gave a wobbly smile. “It’s fine. I’ve just been up since six and he’s not easy to deal with, you know.”

“Tell me about it.”

We got busy filling up our plates. I was always spoiled for choice at Tony’s parties. If or when I got married, I was definitely going to poach his caterer. Tonight, there was burrata bruschetta with black pepper and figs, tuna carpaccio with lime and sea salt, tender chicken satays, tiny bell peppers with stuffing, skewers of prawns and pineapples, lamb meatballs, and mushrooms stuffed with cheese and caramelised onions and a lot of other delicious things. Clint put a modest amount of food on his plate, whereas I filled mine as if it were a free for all. 

He was about to continue the conversation when something caught his eye.

“Shoot, I gotta go!”

“Is everything okay?” I asked, alarmed it was Loki.

“Yeah, just saw someone I’ve been trying to get a hold of. Will you be okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Anytime, buddy. Take care. And don’t worry, I am just a few metres away. I’ll be keeping an eye out for you.”

“Thank you!” I watched him run off to whoever he wanted to speak with and then turned my gaze back to my plate.

Against my better judgement, I decided to make a plate for Loki. I filled it up with a little of everything, having no idea what he liked or disliked. I hung around to chat with some of the people I’d got to meet at parties or work with over the past few weeks. There was an EVP for Rayborn Industries, one of Stark Industries’ biggest suppliers; the assistant editor for the culture desk at the New Yorker; and the PR for Marc Tarpenning, one of Tesla’s co-founders. All of them politely - and unsuccessfully - tried to not eyeball the quantity of food I was carrying, clearly believing it was all meant for me.

After a couple of minutes of chatting, the ear piece went off.

“Miss?” Robson’s voice came through.

“Robson?” I asked, panicked, barely managing to excuse myself properly. “Everything okay?”

“You need to get here. We’re at the bar. We can’t intervene without it looking weird. Not again.”

I caught sight of him and quickened my pace.

“’Not again?’ What do you mean?”

“It’s that woman. Potts’ PA, Mary.”

My brain stopped working. “Yeah, what about her?”

He tutted, clearly using the last of his patience. “He’s cozying up to her again!”

I skid to a stop a few feet away from the bar, almost sending the plates crashing to the floor.

'Cozying' was probably an understatement, for Loki was chatting with Mary, a hand on her arm and the other around her glass, their fingers just about touching, looking entirely too delighted with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I swear, I find it so hilarious that so many of you are so enthralled by Robson. "WWRD?" is on a lot of you guys' minds. And some of you have even sent me face claims for him (three so far!). I'm just amused because I never thought he'd be inviting such curiosity and fascination. Also, it's totally up to you guys to decide whether Scandal has a girl-crush on Nat, or a crush-crush on her. She's whatever you want her to be :')
> 
> 2\. All you naughty little sausages just got lucky, because there's going to be not one but TWO chapters devoted to the party. I was thinking I'd be able to wrap up everything in just 5k words, but this segment itself is 5.6k words-ish and the next segment would be around that, if not more, so I had to break it up. A+ for effort to me for trying to stick to a decent word limit, though.
> 
> 3\. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Speaking of! I wrote the first part for a Christmas-themed Loki story, [ Christmas Through the Ages. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021313/chapters/40016745) And I'll be putting up the next part on Sunday or Monday maybe. *Insert shameless self-plug* So check it out, maybe? Please? I also intend to post a New Year themed Loki one-shot set within the JMPWD universe. Scandal, Loki and all the other copulatives, though it's probably not going to be part of the main story. Stay tuned!
> 
> 4\. I'm starting to get things started on Tumblr as well! I've put up a [ masterlist ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/179536533617/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-masterlist) (still in the process of being updated) and designed a [ cover/moodboard ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/181241392892/cover-for-a-job-a-million-prs-would-die-for) . Do check it out! I'd be super grateful if you could reblog them as well! I'll be using my Tumblr to put up teasers for future stories/chapters, playlists for this story and hypothetical chats between Scandal and the rest of the gang, and all that cool stuff. Not to mention, I'd be better able to interact with everyone and answer random questions over there, so do come over <3
> 
> 5\. As always, let me know what you think and if you liked it. I'm always happy to get feedback. Thank you to all the new readers who've come in, and thank you to all of you for getting me to 400 kudos!! You all rock!


	18. That Time We Attended a Party - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Loki probably do not understand what it means to 'attend a party.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give up trying to regulate the word count.

_I skid to a stop a few feet away from the bar, almost sending the plates crashing to the floor._

_Loki was chatting with Mary, a hand on her arm and the other around her glass, their fingers just about touching, looking entirely too delighted with each other._

* * *

 

Bottom lip quivering, I tried to steady my hands and legs before I closed the distance. Once I thought I was as steady as I could get, I resumed walking, but was interrupted.

“Hey girl!” My coworker Roisin, who was the event planner on our team, greeted.

“Rosh! Hey!” I cried. “Listen –”

“Is he here, then?” She whispered, conspiratorially. “You-know-who, I mean. I heard that you’ll be bringing him tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s here, in fact –”

“Where is he?”

“My 9 o’clock.”

Her head whipped to the side and she gasped. I turned to see what she was gasping at.

“Oh, damn, I almost didn’t recognise him!”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

“Damn, I never thought I'd say this but he’s quite the looker!”

“Yes, he’s quite the hooker,” I said sourly.

“No, I said ‘looker.’”

“Yes. Hooker,” I repeated firmly. 

She looked at me oddly, but didn’t comment further. “It’s so weird. I’ve only seen pics of him as that in that weird horny helmet. He looks so… casual.”

“Yeah, I had to fight tooth and nail to get him to look casual. He insisted on the tie,” I said, dancing on one foot, then the other. The daylight between him and Mary seemed to be decreasing every passing second.

“Oh, he looks totally dressed for the part. Especially with the rolled up sleeves.”

“That was my idea.”

She laughed. “ _Great_ idea, playing up the sex appeal.”

I scowled. “Apparently I played it up too much. Look at them! They look like snakes mating.”

She gave me another odd look. “Why do you know what mating snakes look like?”

“Internet.”

“Um, okay, I’ll take your word on that.” She turned to take a closer look and saw what had been driving me nuts. “Oh, gosh, is that Mary Langley?”

“Apparently! Look, you’ve got to help me break them apart! This is the second time they’re making heart eyes at each other!”

“Second time?” She asked, surprised.

“Yes! I brought him to the living room for lunch one day and Pepper and she came up, looking for Tony. Loki dove straight for her and she fell hook, line and sinker.”

She started laughing.

“What?” I hissed.

"Oh, this is just rich!”

“This is not rich! He’s an intergalactic criminal, she’s going to end up dead and you and I in prison! Come on!”

“Did you just say ‘intergalatic criminal?’”

“Yes, now, will you _please_ come?” I cried.

Robson took that moment to bark in my ear, “What the hell are you doing over there? Get here right now!”

“I’m coming, okay? Jesus!” I hissed. Then, to Roisin I said, “ _Come on!_ ”

“Okay, okay!”

We marched up to the duo, my eyes flashing, Roisin behind me.

“ _Lucas_ ,” I said in a sickly sweet voice. “There you are.”

At the same time, Roisin went, “Mary! Hey! Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you!”

“Oh, hey, Rosh!” She detached herself from Loki and had the decency to blush.

Loki looked at me smugly, his eyes challenging me to create a scene. “That is not a lot of food, darling. Only two plates? Why do you not get yourself another?”

My smile soured. I couldn’t snark him back the way I wanted to in front of Mary, so I had to settle for being polite. “One of the plates is for you.”

He smiled indulgently. “See, Mary? I told you I have such a good assistant,” He said as he took one of the plates from me. “But, no one can be as diligent as you are towards Virginia. You are so… devoted.”

Mary’s blush deepened. “Oh, no, Mr. Lucas, I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re right, Mary. Some people really need to realise that they are _not gods that will be worshipped_ ,” I sang.

“I told you to call me Lucas, did I not?” He said to Mary, ignoring me.

“She can call you whatever she wishes,” I snapped.

Mary frowned at me. “It’s alright,” She said coolly. “I don’t mind. Anyway, how are you, Rosh? Pepper was wondering when she could get a hold of you. I know you’re busy with the Avengers’ parties but you know, we’ve got that expo coming up.”

Roisin looked unsurely at the three of us. “Oh, yeah, I was wondering if I should talk with her about it tonight.”

Mary nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah, she’d love that!”

Roisin saw her opening. “Oh, great, can you help me find her?”

“She should be somewhere on the mezzanine, I think. That’s where I last saw her anyway, with Rhodey.”

“I was hoping you could get the ball rolling. Besides, it would help if you were there. It would save us on a lot of back and forth and you already have such a good idea of Pepper’s schedule.”

Roisin was pushing it. Besides taking a note of a follow-up or whom to send a thank you card to, PA’s weren’t expected to do much work. It was a party, after all. Roisin sounded out of touch at best and insensitive at worst, but she was doing it for me. I shot her a grateful look.

Mary squirmed. “I’m sure you could talk over the finer details next week. Pepper just wants to ask you if you’re ready to pitch in, for the moment.”

“Oh, that’s completely fine. Still, was just wanting to do this with you,” Roisin said.

Before Mary could say anything else, Loki spoke up, “The lady doth work too hard and deserves a reprieve. Tell me, Mary, dear, have you eaten yet?”

The smile came back to her face. “No.”

“That is not right. You need sustenance,” He said, dismayed, then turned to me. “ _Scandal_ , you are so good at fetching things. Make Mary a plate, will you?”

I raised an eyebrow, beyond pissed. “You and I have work to do as well.”

“No, we do not.”

“Yes, we do.”

“No, we –”

I slammed my plate down on the bar counter and leaned in very close to him and furiously whispered, “Stop making a scene.”

Jonas, my favourite bartender, came up. “Hey, babe,” He began hesitantly. “Could you take the plate off the counter? You’re not supposed to put food from the buffet here.”

I snapped to face him, my finger pointed at him, before I remembered myself. “In a moment.”

“But –”

“In a moment, Jonas.”

He raised his hands in surrender and retreated.

Loki and I looked at each other, eyes for no one else. This was familiar territory. Being angry at him and wanting to tear him apart was easier and less complicated than feeling anything else. Not breaking eye contact, he slowly reached for the glass on the counter and raised it to his lips. I looked at the glass and noticed a lipstick stain.

It was Mary’s.

_That son of a…_

He saw realisation flit across my face and his eyes gleamed, daring me to challenge him again. Sadly, I took the bait.

“What happened to your germophobia?” I asked, a tad too sulkily for my taste, remembering all too well how he had rudely rejected the idea of trying my Cosmo less than an hour ago.

He raised an eyebrow, delighted at my reaction. “Oh, but this is a chalice bearing Mary’s insignia.” And then he turned the glass around till the lipstick stain was in front of him and brushed his lips against it.

Mary blushed. Roisin also blushed. Maybe I blushed too, but I couldn’t tell. All I could feel was heat coursing through me. Anger, frustration and an overwhelming urge to kill. He noticed, of course, like he noticed everything. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, a small smirk gracing his face.

“So suave,” Mary smiled.

He turned all his attention back to her, a lazy smile on his face. He took another sip and asked, “What does this drink have?”

“Ginger beer and rum. Do you like it?”

“It is marvelous. And, you said it is called a ‘Dark ‘n’ Stormy?’”

“Yep.” Her hand came back close to his.

“As dark as your hair and as stormy as your eyes.” He raised the glass to her.

She blushed. Roisin also blushed. I rolled my eyes. This was getting old.

A person approached us from the right. With a start, I realised it was one of the undercover SHIELD agents.

“Ms. Langley?” She asked.

“Yes?” Mary straightened herself.

“Ms. Potts is looking for you. She said she wanted to discuss SHIELD security arrangements for the Stark Expo.”

I turned to look at Robson, questioningly. He nodded in reassurance. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ and he nodded back at me. I supposed there was some good that came out of this Mary encounter and the consequent renewed antagonism between me and Loki. Mary was unable to wriggle her way this time. This was not about a coworker whom she could push back till the next week. This was SHIELD. If Pepper and SHIELD wanted her there even for just carrying her drink, then Mary had to be there. With a sigh she straightened up. Loki pushed her drink towards her, but she pushed it back towards him, resting her hand directly on his.

“Keep it,” She whispered. She opened her purse and took out a business card. “For you, in case you want another Dark ‘n’ Stormy sometime.”

His eyes twinkled as he thumbed the card, then the back of her hand and raised it to his lips. “It may be sooner than you know.”

She smiled at him. “Roisin,” She said as goodbye. She didn’t deign to acknowledge me. We watched her follow the SHIELD agent.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Roisin said after a while. She threw a hesitant look at Loki.

“Thank you,” I said and clutched her hand.

“No problem, wish I could’ve been of more help,” She squeezed my hand. “See ya!”

Once she’d gone and I whirled around, my eyes burning holes into him. “What was that?”

“Oh, just a little bit of fun, really.”

“What happened to not demeaning me every step of the way? What happened to promising to behave yourself tonight? What happened to not being generally insufferable?”

Loki regarded me coolly. “I could ask you the same yourself. You were certainly having fun playing the ‘damsel in distress’ card with Thor.”

“What is it with you and me chatting with Thor?”

“What is it with you and fawning over that witless wonder whenever he flashes a smile?”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna play that game?” I asked, folding my arms. “What is it with you and not minding said ‘fawning’ when Mary is doing it with you?”

“What is it with you and constantly grilling me about that giglet?”

“The what?”

“Giglet.”

“Can you stop speaking in Shakespearean and try speaking in English for once?”

He made a dismissive noise. “It is not my fault that your vocabulary is so stunted.”

“You know, for a 1000-year-old guy, you behave uncannily like a 10-year-old child most times.”

“ _I_ did not go seeking Thor or Barton or Romanov to fight my battles.”

“Neither did I, but you did an _outstanding_ job of catching their attention. I’m so glad I got to watch that. I’m really curious now exactly what security footage Natasha was talking about.”

One of his hands reached up to grab me, but his fingers stopped just short of my bicep, instead clenching around air. He looked like he was having a hard time restraining himself.

“What is it, Loki? What is in that footage?” I goaded. “Let me go ask Natasha.”

“Do it,” He hissed. “And the game is up.”

“Oh? What happened to wanting to get out of the Tower no matter what the cost? What happened to turning over a new leaf just to spite Tony? What happened to me being the only one who could help you and understand you?”

His eyes flashed. “Careful, Midgardian. Do not overestimate your importance. You may not be as insignificant as your predecessors, but that does not mean you are indispensable to me.”

“Oh, so who is indispensable to you? Mary?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Norns, why did I have to get stuck with such a… _tröllkona_?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you call me?”

“That was definitely not Shakespearean, if you are interested to know.”

“I figured. _What_ did you call me?”

“Something dismissive of you and your petty mortal mind.”

“Oh, you want to talk about pettiness?” I bared my teeth. “Newsflash! Not everything is about you! Stop acting as if every single thing, said or unsaid, is an insult to you! Stop pissing people off and then wondering why they were mean to you!”

He was breathing heavily by the time I’d finished my rant. Surprisingly, he did not open his mouth again and chose to stew in silence. I decided to take advantage of it.

“Right, so, it’s clear this is not going to work out. For all your sweeping professions of how you promise to behave and how you cared a little for me and how you regret what you did, you are back to being as much of an asshole as always. Agent Robson,” I stepped to the side and spoke to the Agent, “I think it’s time to escort him back to his room.”

“I need to go over the logistics, first,” He replied.

So much for being all dramatic and taking charge. “Oh, well. Take your time.”

I decided to make use of the time and eat something before I passed out. I reached for my plate, but before I could grab it, Loki pulled it away from my fingers.

“What are you doing?” I growled.

“No.”

“Give my plate back to me,” I said slowly, “Before I become more hangry.”

“Become what?”

“Hangry.”

“ _What?”_

“Haha,” I crowed, “Whose vocabulary is stunted now?”

“Midgardian,” He began.

“Asgardian,” I echoed. “Give me back my food, goddamnit!”

He held it above his head. “No.”

“Gimme!” I grumbled and tried standing on my tippy-toes to reach the plate. He held it up a tad higher, lording over me with his godly stature. I raked my hands across his shirt to find leverage, then tried digging my nails into his stomach. When that didn’t work, I tried wriggling my fingers in his armpit. Tough luck. The bastard wasn’t ticklish.

“Ah, ah, ah,” He chided, as he looked at me the way a tree might look at a kitten trying to climb it. “If I am not allowed to touch you without your permission, then you should not be allowed either.”

I gaped at him. “Are you shitting me right now? You’ve stolen my food! I’m starving! Give me my food back!”

His eyes twinkled. “Ask me nicely.”

My bottom lip trembled. First this bastard made me listen to him roast his brother’s performance in the sack, then he insulted me in front of another woman and now he intended to starve me.

He saw I was close to crying and his expression softened. “Norns, don’t cry. I am just teasing you, you silly chit. Give me your word you will not touch me without my permission.”

Robson appeared next to both of us. "Will the two of you behave, for god's sake? People are watching."

I wanted to snap and snarl at Loki and jab him again just to be petty. But, my stomach was doing most of the thinking now and I realised Robson was right. “Fine! You can tie your own tie, then!”

He raised both his eyebrows, as if to ask if that was seriously the first thing that came to my mind as a response. “Fine. Now, will you attend the party with me like a good little PR or will you continue throwing your tantrum?”

I made a noise that was half-sob, half-growl. “That depends! Are you done throwing a cosmic fit?”

He did not like that, but he decided to play along. “Yes.”

"Then yes! Now give me my food!"

Mercifully, he lowered his arm and let me take my plate back, grinning smugly at my desperation.

I shielded the plate with my body before snarling, “I swear, Loki, if you ever treat me like your maid again, we’re done. Do you hear me? This is exactly the sort of behaviour you promised you will not repeat." I could see Jonas the bartender hovering around us again, so I looked at Loki and pointed to the plate. "Now, pick up your plate and come eat!”

“I do not wish to.”

“Fine, then starve!” I snapped. “Either way, you are coming with me.”

I marched off towards the dinner tables, hoping he would follow me of his own will rather than be shepherded by the SHIELD agents. Still, even that wasn’t a guarantee. When I sat down, I was relieved to see him pull up a chair next to me, set his plate on the table and sit.

“Relationship problems?”

My head whipped right to the man sitting next to me. I tried not to laser-eye him as I tried to figure out a response.

“Sorry, I saw the two of you at the bar,” He commented. “I know an excellent relationship counsellor if you need help.”

I vigorously tried to swallow down the meatball I’d attacked. I succeeded, but not without damaging my oesophagus along the way.

“Oh, no, no,” I squawked, hoping I didn’t have sauce around my mouth. “I’m a PR with the Avengers. I’m liaison for them with Mr. Lucas here,” I blindly felt about for his shoulder, till I sensed him lean into the man’s line of sight. “He’s Icelandic,” I offered, as if that explained everything. It probably did. It was xenophobic of me, but it wasn’t as if Loki was going to score high on cultural sensitivity either. Then again, I shouldn’t be comparing myself to him. He and I came from vastly different worlds. Literally.

After I’d introduced Loki as Lucas Hilmarsson, scion of the Hilmarsson family, which had made its fortune in nanotechnology. Of course, it was a fictional family and of course, I only knew this Icelandic name thanks to Nanna Hilmarsdóttir from Of Mosters and Men. No one doubted us. With a simple story and good acting, we rocked our way through the dinner conversation and all the guests' relentless questions.

“You sound British, though.”

“Oh, he attended Eton, then went to Cambridge.”

“What did you study there?”

“Classics.”

“But… aren’t you from a tech-leaning family?”

“Mr. Hilmarsson’s specialty is in combining the humanities and the classics – the summation of what makes us human – with technology to help personify AI.”

It wasn’t as phony as it may have sounded to someone not at Avengers Tower. Granted, I had very little idea about the topic I was talking about, but in my two months here, I had picked up enough techno-babble and ideas spouted by thought leaders and pioneers to make something up on the spot and work a techie party. I also knew that Loki was very well read. He had had a new book every day when I’d gone to see him and I had also had the 'privilege' of sorting his bookshelf. Besides, like Stella had told me on my second day of work, Loki loved the sound of his voice. It was clear that nothing would delight him more than spewing esoteric knowledge that had been accumulated over centuries of reading and ruminating.

“Is it not within philosophies and towering tales of friendship and heroism that we find our truest selves? The true meaning of life?” Loki took over. “Take, for example, the Epic of Gilgamesh. The idea that sex is what it takes to tame the beast into a man and differentiate our world from the wild…”

I had to admit, he could be very charming when he put his mind to it. A large part of that charm came from the fact that he was genuinely highly intelligent. He was putting on a show the same way as I had, but he wasn’t faking it like me. He knew what he was talking about, he firmly believed in the interpretations he was drawing and supporting, and he made connections and relations that few but the most thoughtful and erudite scholars would have been able to keep up with. It was magnetising and a pleasant change to see this side of him.

A hand on my shoulder broke the spell.

“Everything okay, here?” A woman asked in my ear.

Stella. She usually excused herself from Tony’s weekend parties, but had made an exception tonight to put out any fires and handle any crises that Loki might spring. I immediately got up, not bothering to excuse myself, for everyone had long since stopped paying me attention.

“Hi, yes!”

She eyed him and spoke from the corner of her mouth, a smile on her face. “What was that incident with Thor?”

I followed her example. “He was having a pissing contest.”

“Typical. What was he doing with Langley?”

“Flirting.”

She sighed. “Is that nipped in the bud?”

“Not really. Robson had someone intervene, pretending they needed to discuss security for Stark Expo. And, she hates me. Probably thinks I’m cuckoo and infatuated with my boss.”

She sighed again. “I will have a word with Pepper. I don’t see what good it will do, but I’d rather keep her up to date on this as well. And what was that situation at the bar where he was lifting a plate in the air and you were trying to climb him?”

I flushed. I should have realised how visible we were and just how ridiculous we might have looked.

“Tony may be allowed his eccentricities, but I’d ask the two of you to keep a low profile," She said drily.

“It was in the aftermath of that flirtation session,” I mumbled. “He was holding my food hostage in exchange for me not dumping him back to his room.”

“And,” She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. I could see my reflection in her glasses. “Robson informed me about an incident this morning with the girl from Gucci.”

Kill Bill sirens started playing in my head. They were as much for myself as they were for Robson. He had promised to not tell till tomorrow, goddamnit. I tried to find him to glare at him to death.

“Don’t look at him,” Stella said. “Look at me. You had a meltdown and you also called Loki certain adjectives.”

‘Certain adjectives.’ Hah.

“I shouldn’t have let either of you come to the party,” She continued, daring me to protest, “Given that both of you are such a liability, but it is too late now. I can’t pull you out right now, but we are going to be having a little chat on Monday, believe you me.”

“Stella, I –” I began.

“I think I am the one you should address your grievances to, Ms. Lee,” A familiar silky voice spoke up. Loki excused himself from his fledgling throng of admirers and came over to us, his hands overflowing with business cards. “Here, darling. Can you keep track of them for me?” He handed me the cards.

I nodded, puzzled, and stashed the cards clumsily into my clutch.

“Ms. Lee,” He began. Stella peered at him guardedly. “Yes, my PR may have used unsavoury language and been highly offensive today morning, but I assure you – and you can see the footage yourself as well – that she said nothing that will raise any suspicion. The only thing it may raise is petty office gossip, which will in no way threaten your reputation or good name. My PR has been highly diligent and tolerant and hers was a natural reaction to months of mounting stress and indignation at my unpleasantness. She is only human, like you. And, she is certainly much better behaved and sensible than your employers. A little more time controlling your employers and a little less time controlling your employees would work wonders for all of us.”

I had finished my food and regained my strength, but now I began feeling faint all over again. I looked like a drugged deer in the headlights of a truck that Loki was driving. Had he really just defended me? Had he really just complimented me? Had he really just taken a jab at Stella? Okay, I could believe the last bit. Insulting people was his life’s calling, but being nice to them? Shit. I had also never seen Stella Lee look so taken aback, and I probably never would. I was almost tempted to take a photo. To her credit, though, she recovered quickly.

“Thank you for your feedback,” She said crisply. Gutsy woman, not making any effort to mask her forced politeness. “It shall be duly considered.”

He smiled, undaunted by her iciness. “Oh, and I also recommend you watch the footage for yourself rather than rely on Agent Robson’s lacklustre summary. I am confident you will reconsider your censure once you gather the context that the Agent has so conveniently excluded.”

Before things could get uglier, Robson could lose his cool and I ended up with a bad annual review, I interjected, “Stella, is there anything I can do right now?”

Her lips pursed together. “No. Make sure he behaves.”

“Of course.”

“And, I will see you on Monday. 9 am, my office.”

“Certainly,” I gulped.

With a final glacial glare at him and a curt nod at me, Stella departed.

“I need water,” I whispered.

Loki beamed. “Of course. Lead the way.”

I went to the table and picked up my plate. “Pick up your plate,” I instructed.

“Surely, the servants will do it.”

“They are waiters, not servants. Just pick up the plate. Please,” I added tersely.

He did as I said without comment, surprisingly. We found the nearest waiter and handed him our plates. Then, we made our way to the bar, again.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Do what?” He asked.

“Defend me like that,” I said, irritated. He knew what I was talking about, but still he wanted me to say it.

“Why not?”

“Why?”

He clasped his hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I can be decent to you?”

“Yeah, like you were in front of Mary?”

“This is my way of making amends and to show I am trying. And, it was not just prompted by some chivalrous need to defend you. I did not want to risk her stopping you from working for me.”

I snorted. “Now, _that_ I can believe.”

His expression hardened momentarily, then became unreadable. I gulped down the water and picked up another drink. Then, we began walking around the room, stopping to exchange a few words here and there with other people.

“Well, if it isn’t the rising PR star!”

I turned around to see Tony sauntering towards. He gave Loki the stinky eye, but said nothing. He looked to be in a better mood than yesterday, when I'd last seen him. I hoped he had got past being annoyed at me.

“Hi, Tony!” I exclaimed and skipped over to him. “I was wondering where you were lurking!”

“Oh, here and there. Been busy meeting with some people. How’s Morticia Addams doing?” He nodded towards Loki, who had joined us.

I coughed to hide my snort. “Fine. We had a few… difficulties, but we’re fine now.”

“Yeah, if you define ‘difficulties’ as Thor almost bludgeoning one of my ‘guests.’ I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

“And, what reputation would that be?” Loki scoffed.

“A better one than yours, Morticia. Just because you are allowed to come to the party tonight doesn't mean anyone trusts you.”

“Does it amuse you to come up with monikers to compensate for your abysmal sense of humour?” Loki asked pleasantly.

“Nah, they help me stay cool and connected with the youth. Ooh! Speaking of youth!” He looked around in all directions wildly. “Dan! Hey, Dan! Come over here!”

A bewildered young man, around my age, disconnected himself from his social group and made his way to us.

“Oh, look, two young people at a party!” Tony exclaimed. “Isn’t it amazing how you run into cool people at Avengers Tower?” He winked at me.

I sighed. Of course. Like all people who had too much to do and no will to do it, Tony busied himself with nosing about in his employees’ love lives. This wasn’t his first attempt to set me up with someone at his party and it definitely wasn’t going to be his last.

"You need to let your hair down, Scandal," He would often say to me and then push me in the direction of a guy he knew was single and available. "You sure you like men? I've tried setting you up with some really handsome blokes and you've barely smiled at them," he'd ask and I'd have to find tactful ways to tell him that really, I didn't want to discuss my preferences or have him set me up with anyone. Of course, it would always go over his head.

“Scandal,” Tony exclaimed presently before beginning to slide out, ignoring my glares. “Rein–” He began, before remembering that ‘Reindeer Games’ had become Tony’s publicly used nickname for Loki. “–RAINING MEN! IT’S RAINING MEN!” He screeched and slid away. Suddenly, Rod Stewart’s ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy’ started playing and I didn’t have to be a genius to know it was Tony’s doing.

I and ‘Dan’ stared at each other, partly confused, fully embarrassed.

“Hey, I’m Daniel!” He introduced himself.

“Scandal!” I blurted, before remembering that that was only a nickname.

Daniel laughed. “Let me guess. Another ‘Tonyism?’”

I smiled. “Yup.”

“Well, in that case, I’m Neo. I’m named after Neo from Matrix, because he thinks I’m a whiz-kid with quantum computing.”

I extended my hand. “Scandal. I’m named after the show ‘Scandal’ because I’m a PR with the Avengers.”

He laughed again and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Scandal.”

I realised I’d been holding my drink in the hand I’d extended. As a result, my hand was cold and clammy. “Oh, shit, sorry, I forgot to hold my drink in the other hand.”

“No worries, a little wet hand never killed anyone.”

He smiled. I smiled. I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw Loki looking annoyed. That wasn’t new. Daniel and I stared at each other in that awkward silence when you didn’t want to end the conversation, but didn’t know what to say either. He was wearing a baby blue shirt and brown slacks that complemented his baby blue eyes and light brown hair. He was cute and had an open face. I liked him. Maybe I should seriously consider doing as Clint had suggested and Tony insisted instead of getting flustered every time I had to be in close proximity to Loki.

He grinned lopsidedly. “I’m sure it must be annoying being in a crisis, but I’d love to be in a Scandal like you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Why?

_Why?_

How many puppies did I accidentally kill to end up at this party tonight?

How many babies did I unwittingly burn to end up at this place, at this moment, at this party?

Had I not paid for whatever sins I had committed by listening to Loki character-assassinate Thor and Jane?

My lips twitched, partly out of the hilarity of the situation but mostly out of the cringeworthiness. I opened my eyes to see Daniel looking horrified by what he had said. Good.

“Yeah… that’s probably better saved for Tinder than in person,” I said softly.

“I am _so_ sorry,” He groaned. “That was terrible. Awful. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged.

“Yeah, I’ll just go now,” He said, stricken.

“No, no! It’s okay. Stay!” Clearly, he was even more traumatised than me and I felt a little bad for scaring him off. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Yeah, I’m really sorry!”

“It’s okay, just forget about it. Blame Tony,” I joked weakly. “He probably wanted me to be the Trinity to your Neo.”

He ruffled his hair. “Or, the Fitz to your Olivia,” He added, nervously, making a reference to the show Scandal.

My lips twitched again, this time in pure amusement. I looked at his feet. He was wearing Converse. I decided to take a gamble with the pop culture reference. “Or, the Rose to your Doctor.”

He picked up on my line of thought and grinned. I realised he looked like a guy-next-door version of David Tennant. “Or, the Jack to your Rose.”

“’Come back, come back!’” I squawked, in a horrible impression of a near-hypothermic Kate Winslet. Probably not the best way to flirt with a guy, but this had been a doomed venture from the beginning.

“’I’ll never let go!’” He vowed.

I laughed and he followed suit. I was halfway through saying ‘I’ll be the Hermione to your Ron’ when suddenly, I felt a push and I fell on to Daniel. He caught me, but my drink capsised and drenched his shirt. It was my turn to be horrified.

“Oh. My. God! I am so sorry!” I screeched. “Oh god, I’ll pay for laundry! Or dry cleaning! Or whatever! Please, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, don’t worry, it’s just a shirt!” He consoled.

“But still, I’m sorry! I don’t know how I lost balance!” I had an idea how, but I wasn’t going to bring it up right now.

“Hey, I may not have an eight-pack like Thor, but if you wanted me to take off my shirt, you should’ve just asked,” He joked.

I hit him playfully on the arm. “Shut up!”

“’I’m falling Jack! I’m falling!’” He mimicked.

I hit him again. “ _Shut up_!”

“Okay, okay!” He laughed. “Listen, I’ll go clean up my shirt. But, are you on StarkNet?” He was referring to the social networking site for all Stark Industries and Avengers employees.

“Yep!” I chirped and gave him my details.

“Sweet, can I add you? Just in case I don't find you again tonight”

“Yeah, of course!” Despite the mutual awkwardness, there was something about him that invited me to get to know him better.

“Well, _Scandal_ , it was great meeting you!” He smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling.

“You too!” I sang, a nice, tingling feeling in my chest as I watched him make his way to the restroom. A nice feeling that definitely did not stay for long as I turned around to face the culprit. “What the fuck was that about?”

Loki gave me a supremely bored look. “I grew tired of watching your stupid Midgardian mating ritual.”

“Excuse me?" I cried, incredulous. "First off, it’s not a ‘mating ritual!’ It’s called flirting. Second, it’s not ‘mating!’ We’re not animals!”

“Animals, humans – you’re all lesser lifeforms than me.”

“Why the hell have you regressed to being such an ass again? Does seeing me miserable help you get off?”

“You Midgardians and your filthy minds and speech,” He muttered.

“Ohohoho!” I roared. “Pot calling the kettle black!”

“I have been nothing but courteous in my speech all evening."

“You were spewing more trash than a garbage truck when Thor came over!”

“Those,” He retorted, “Were the facts. I was merely drawing attention to how loud my brother’s trysts were.”

“I’m not the one who said I liked being slapped by a woman!”

“No? Do you like being slapped by a man, darling?” He smirked, taking great pleasure in twisting my words. “I can certainly oblige on that count.”

“Touch me,” I snarled, “And I will end you.”

He looked at me intently. Then, a slow smile appeared on his face. “Ah, now I understand what Midgardians mean when they call someone or something ‘cute.’”

“I’m not cute!” I screeched.

“If you say so, darling.”

I made a disgusted noise. Before I could come up with something, Robson stepped next to us and grabbed my elbow.

"Not another word," He said. "The two of you've created enough drama tonight."

I wrenched my elbow from his grasp, glaring as I remembered what he had done. "You promised to not tell Tony or Stella about today morning."

"That was until I found out you were going back to his room and the two of you performed that farce. What we're going to do now is go drop him back to his room and sit you down with Stark and Stella and explain whatever the hell that happened."

"There is nothing to explain, I told you," I whined, hoping I could wriggle my way out of this.

"We are not leaving this party yet," Loki stated.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Robson growled. "I'm fully authorised to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety and the safety of everyone else. And, I have questions for both of you." He glared at me.

I gulped. I was going to say something, when I got distracted by the sound of dozens of phones ringing almost all at once. My eyes darted to Robson, whose phone went off as well. As I looked around, a couple of guests started leaving. Many of the SHIELD agents coalesced around each other and began frantically whispering. I looked to one of the upper levels to see Natasha worriedly speaking into her phone as she came down and crossed the room, her eyes for nothing but the exit. I looked back at Robson, who had disconnected his call.

“Miss, I have to go. Stay here. Find Stark or Barton. I’m leaving an agent here, just in case.” And then, without another word, he followed the other guests and agents towards the exit.

I tried calling him back, but he was already gone. I could see no other agent around me. The cheerful mood of the party had vanished. There was now only a worried murmuring and a sense of unease.

“Ah, at last your guardian leaves you,” Loki drawled.

I stared at him, dread filling me up inch by icy inch. “What have you done?” I whispered.

“Nothing at all, I assure you. However interesting this may be, it is not my doing.”

“Loki,” I began.

“I have no hand in this. But, there is something I have been meaning to show you,” He continued. “Something I could not show you earlier, thanks to the strict vigil your guardian was keeping over you.”

“What are you talking about? Is it about Robson?"

“It does get annoying having him keep an eye on you and me. It has not been easy, you know, with SHIELD monitoring my activity at all times and Stark installing sensors to detect any unusual occurrence on my end. Then again, who are they and who am I?”

“Shit, Loki, what if Robson finds out -”

“Patience, darling. I am getting to it. I know the worry has been plaguing you all evening. And, I assume that that worry also comes from the words you exchanged with Robson earlier tonight. He is suspicious, is he not? He does not buy our newly-established camaraderie. Then again, he did not witness our intimate conversation that happened in your apartment. You are worried he will sift through the lie, dig for the truth and find out that I left my room to come to yours.”

“How did you leave your room and come to mine? He's going to review the footage and both you and I are toast!"

“I can tell you,” He smiled. It made my stomach lurch. “Or, I can show you.”

“’Show me?’” I stammered.

“Yes. Show you,” He said sweetly. “Lift your glass. I have a feeling you might want to throw your drink at me as you had promised earlier.”

I lifted it slowly.

“There is barely any left, but keep looking,” He commanded.

I did. One second ago, there had been but an inch of my drink left in my glass. Now, the drink seemed to be rising, a green glow around it. My eyes followed its ascent as the glass filled up to the top again, as if the drink had never been touched. I stared hard at it. Understanding hit me only a minute or so later. When it did, the rest of my body became just as frozen as the hand holding the glass.

He was using his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score: Reader/Scandal - 4; Loki - 4 (but not for long, muwahaha)
> 
> 2\. Shout out to BirdOfHermes for giving me this idea about Loki telling Scandal in turn that he too doesn't want to be touched without his consent. I'm going to have have so much fun with it. I also added plot to this story. Actual plot, can you believe it? Any of you got any idea what's going on with SHIELD? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> 3\. Just another PSA, I've got a [ Tumblr ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/181497319332/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-18), where you can also follow this story (along with chapter teasers, playlists, random questions) and all the Loki memes I may make. I would really, really love to see you guys over there! 
> 
> 4\. I also added a Christmas story, [ Christmas Through the Ages ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021313/chapters/40272278), which I've edited and reuploaded, for I wasn't happy with the second chapter. It's shorter with less soap-opera-ish melodrama and more punch, so hopefully you like it better.
> 
> 5\. Hope you all have been having a good end-of-year and Christmas! I cannot express in words just how grateful I am for all of you. You guys and your support, love and feedback really made the second part of my 2018 extraordinary. Thank you for getting me to 5k views and 100+ subs. I genuinely can't believe that my story found so much success, especially considering it's from a rookie Marvel writer like me. Of all the fics and authors you could've chosen, you chose me and mine. Thank you. I will see you all with an update in the next year! Have a great start to the new year!


	19. That Time We Learned Trade Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Loki discuss his magic. Read this chapter on [ Tumblr. ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/181717083692/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-19)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little information/explanation heavy. I've altered a bunch of things from canon, so please keep an open mind.

_One second ago, there was but an inch of my drink left in my glass. Now, the drink seemed to be rising. My eyes followed its ascent as the glass filled up to the top again, as if the drink had never been touched. I stared hard at it. Understanding hit me only a minute or so later. When it did, the rest of my body became just as frozen as the hand holding the glass._

_He could use his magic._

* * *

 

 

My mouth hung open in wordless shock. It was either that or begin screaming. How else did you react when you discovered that the evil alien overlord you’d been assured had his powers restrained had been able to use them all this time? Especially when he sneaked out of his room to yours to confront you after you had accused him of bestiality? I looked frantically all around, trying to find Tony or Clint. I had to tell them we all were in danger.

One of the few remaining SHIELD agents appeared at my arm. “Come on, we have orders to escort him back.”

Five others were milling around us, each looking as uneasy as the other. They kept a wary eye over the crowd, most of which had begun dissipating as people began realising that something was going on. I looked helplessly at the agent. I wanted to tell him and the others that Loki was a threat. I opened my mouth to say as much, but one look at Loki was enough to change my mind. His eyes were dark, glinting with cold wickedness. A thin, lazy smile rested on his face. No, I didn’t stand a chance and neither did the SHIELD agents. I had to tell this to Tony himself. 

“Yeah,” I said shakily. “Let’s go.”

The SHIELD agents fell alongside him. This time, I walked behind the entourage rather than with Loki. I needed to make my escape. Now that he had told me his secret, for whatever reason, he was going to seek any opportunity to kill me. I intended to survive for as long as possible and I was relieved that at least the walk back was uneventful. He entered his apartment quietly, not turning around to send me a parting grin. I knew then that he was going to hunt me down and that going somewhere secluded and predictable was a bad idea. Instead of making a beeline for my apartment, where I expected he was expecting me to be, I headed back to the party. The SHIELD escort had repositioned itself outside his door and did not accompany me. Though I doubt they would could have done much to save me if – when – Loki decided to go berserk, the agents’ presence by my side would have still made me feel safer.

There was no sign of Tony or Clint, or even Dr. Banner, at the party. My coworkers were trying to reassure the remaining guests. I backtracked, not wanting to get drawn into whatever they may need of me, for I had bigger fish to fry. I decided to try for Tony’s office, right below the penthouse levels. I half expected the elevator to stop midway and Loki to jump down, cut the cables and send me falling to death. Thankfully, I survived the ride down. Tony wasn't here either. With every step I took towards Tony's suite, my heart sank lower. The entire floor was dark with only night lamps lighting the way. Clearly, there was no one here. I turned around to head back to the elevator.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?” Loki’s voice echoed, seemingly from behind me. I turned around, but there was nothing.

I turned around again in the direction of the elevator and gasped. The darkness parted and he appeared, still in the clothes from the evening, the tie hanging loosely around his neck and the sleeves rolled up. A strangled whimper escaped my throat.

“Even when you had something leafy and green on your teeth for the entire time after dinner?” He took slow, deliberate steps towards me.

My limbs shook uncontrollably as I backed away. “Please don’t…” I whimpered.

“Kill you?” Another step. “Hurt you?” Step. “Torture you?” Step. The only illumination came from him, that same green glow around his body. Half of his face was shrouded in the darkness and the other shone a dull blue from the city lights outside. The effect was macabre.

My back hit a table. I winced at the blunt protruding edge that dug into my spine.

“That is not my intention… yet.”

My hand blindly fumbled on the table. I grasped the first thing I came in contact with. An inhuman scream tore through my lips as I threw the object at him. Before the object could hit him or my scream fully escape my lips, a hand clamped over my mouth while another wrapped itself around my torso from behind. My struggling intensified, so much so that I barely noticed Loki… vanish. When I saw what happened, I resumed my screaming.

His voice reached my ear from behind. “I know I promised to not touch you, but I cannot let you compromise me. I do hope you excuse this exception to your rule, for we live in exceptional times, do we not?”

Desperately, I tried to recall what Clint had taught me. I widened my stance and felt Loki's grip slightly slip. I extended a leg and swung it back, bringing the heel down on his knee. It hurt, but I was encouraged by the grunt that escaped him. With a coordination that had only been picked up by practice, I shoved my elbow where I imagined his face to be and grabbed his groin with the other hand. Wonders of wonders, he let go and I legged it, but I didn't make it far before he appeared in front of me once again. I paused, trying to work out if it were an illusion or the real deal. That split second of hesitation was all that he needed, for he caught up to me and trapped me once more from behind.

"Oh, _very_ good, little one," he whispered, "Very, very good indeed. You have improved."

My screaming picked up again and as I started weeping. I was so hysterical that were it not for him, I would have collapsed. Then again, were it not for him, I wouldn't be hysterical in the first place.

“Stop squealing! Someone would think I am besmirching your honour!”

I started bawling at the idea of that.

He clicked his tongue and decided to change tactics. “Had I had full control of my power,” he said pleasantly, his lips almost brushing my ear now, “there would not have been any shimmer around my illusion. And, my illusion’s lips would be moving when he spoke and he would be speaking by himself. But again, if I had full control of my power, we would not be here in this cold, gloomy office.” His voice became firmer. “I am going to let you go now, not because I trust you, but because I know you are smart enough to know that trying any more tricks is only going to get you in trouble.”

A strange combination of relief and terror flooded through me when he let me go. A warbled noise left me as I collapsed to the floor. I slid backwards on my haunches and arms, facing him. He took a step towards me, but stopped when my efforts doubled.

“Do you need help standing up?” He extended his hand.

My eyes darted to his hand and back to his face. I shook my head sharply. “Please, don’t kill me,” I whispered.

He sighed. “Have I not made it clear that I have no intention of hurting you? I promised you this before the party. If I wanted to go back on my word, I would have already killed you already and been done with it.”

“Please don't play with me,” I stammered.

“Shh. There are other ways to play with you than revealing to you such a big, hidden advantage.” His tone hardened again. “Get up. We will continue this conversation in your apartment.” 

“Why?”

“Stark and his cronies may come here any time and it is growing more difficult by the minute to shield my presence from his sentient matrix while maintaining an illusion in my rooms. Get up, unless you want me to lift you.”

That was all the push I needed. I crawled backwards again, this time towards a desk and heaved myself up. My limbs were still trembling, but at least they could function. I fidgeted with my hands and hair, not knowing what else to do. I felt queasy at the thought of taking him back to my apartment, but I had no other choice. He waited for me to step forward, then followed me, always staying half a step behind me, even when we began riding down the elevator. I contemplated screaming for JARVIS to come rescue me, but knowing my luck, it was going to be futile.

We stepped out of the elevator and made our way towards my apartment. I pressed my thumb on the screen on the wall and the door opened. The lights came on automatically. I wish they hadn’t, for in the darkness, I could have probably pretended that I was alone.

“Ah, much better,” Loki commented as he crossed the room and plonked himself on the couch. He loosened the tie further and spread his arms akimbo as he threw his head back and sighed.  

A familiar twinge of resentment coursed through me even through the fear for my life. Bastard was acting as if he were home, even though today had been the first time he had visited my apartment. _Or, had it?_ I thought with a shudder. Now that I knew he had his magic, however weak, there was no telling how many times he had sneaked into my apartment.

Good god, had he watched me sleep?

“Sit down,” he ordered. “You have been up since early in the morning and have had a long day. If you keep standing, you might faint and I do not want you to start screaming at me because I had to touch you to resuscitate you.”

I stood still, paralysed by my fear. He was right; I had already begun feeling the effects of exhaustion and his revelation hadn’t done much for my sanity and peace of mind. Losing consciousness would put me in even more danger. On the other hand, I couldn’t bring myself to sit, for that would I mean I’d have to be closer to him. 

“Sit down,” he said through gritted teeth.

I rushed to a chair adjacent to the couch and gingerly rested my butt on its arm. He shot me a look of roguish delight. 

“My, I had almost forgotten what you looked like when you were scared witless. You have been such a tigress today that it became hard to remember what a mewling kitten you could be when you are scared for your life.”

My sobs started again.

“Stop crying, or I will make you,” he warned.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

He nodded. “Better. Now, I believe you had questions. Ask.”

I shook my head. I had no questions. I just wanted to get out of this alive.

“No? Well, you will not mind if I take a little nap, then? It is so _exhausting_ keeping up the charade that I am helpless and emasculated.”

“No! No!”

“Then, ask.”

I couldn’t contain my sobs, but I made sure they were silent. I had no other choice but to comply. Keeping him talking bought me more time and less of whatever torture he had in store for me.

I licked my lips. “Why?” I whispered, my throat hurting as I tried to form the words. “Why tell me?”

He straightened and lowered his arms to his thighs. “I saw you were beginning to panic. Whatever Robson said to you was weighing you down. What exactly did he say?”

I blinked, unsure if and how to answer the question.

“Don’t test my patience.”

“He was suspicious how quickly we had made amends,” I spoke quickly. “And how…” I trailed off, not wanting to voice one particular thought and trying to find a substitute, “how you didn’t react to me, um, calling you… _that_.”

A grin slowly etched itself upon his face. “How tactful of you. But, tell me: what were you going to say before you changed your line of thought midway?” 

“I – I didn’t –”

He slammed his fist on the wooden coffee table. “Do not lie to me!”

A panicked sound left my throat and I almost lost my balance on the arm of the chair. “Okay, okay. He… he was suspicious why we…” His eyes narrowed and I quickly picked up the trail, “Why you and I seemed comfortable…” I left unsaid ‘around each other.’ 

His posture relaxed slightly. “An entirely natural suspicion to entertain. What did you say?”

“Nothing. I said nothing. I swear,” I added after I saw him tensing up again.

“Very well. What is your concern?”

I readjusted myself on the arm. “He’ll review the footage. He’ll see you leaving your room and coming to mine.”

“I have fooled the monitoring devices, for both earlier today and right now. You need not fear on that account.”

“Okay.”

I said nothing after that, not knowing what else to say. He said nothing either. I felt he was using the silence to goad me into talking. My tears had stopped flowing, but my cheek was still damp. I wanted to wipe my face, but I wasn’t sure if he’d flip at something as innocent as raising my hand to my face. The silence stretched on uncomfortably and I knew for sure now he was using it to toy with me.

“So, why tell me?” I asked again.

“As I said, you were panicking and your panic was attracting further suspicion. Even if Robson found evidence supporting your innocence, your worry and fear would have given you away. He would have leveraged those to get you to confess.”

“Okay.”

“I dislike how much of a close watch he keeps on us,” he continued. “And I did not want to give him another reason to increase his vigilance. Besides,” He crossed one leg over and smirked. “I like playing with you.”

Dull anger throbbed in me at his admission, but I did all I could to dampen it. Now was not the time to lose my temper – unless I were the Hulk, which I was sure I was not. My fingers gripped on to my makeshift perch tighter as I felt myself slipping forward. Loki, being the shithead that he was, eagerly followed both my struggle to retain balance and my effort to keep myself in check. I got the sense that my reactions were keeping his interest in me and consequently, my person safe - for now.

“So, now I know,” I said, with false bravado, “what’s stopping me from telling Tony and the others?”

“You mean other than you devolving into tears when my illusion –”

“I didn’t know it was an illusion!”

“– materialised in front of you?” He finished with a small laugh. “I wish I could have seen your face. Usually, I can view what is happening from the perspective of my clones for a brief amount of time. Alas, that was an illusion and even if it had been a clone, I do not possess enough power to accomplish that – for now.”

Gods, this lunatic could make illusions _and_ clones? And, if he were to believed – which I had a hard time doing – he didn’t even have his full powers yet. Perhaps that was a line of questioning worth pursuing. A thought struck me all of a sudden – I could record this conversation on my phone.

“Yeah, well, I became desensitised to your Reign of Terror eventually.” I tried to think how I could open my clutch and pull out my phone without attracting his attention. “What’s to say I won’t snap out of this and rush straight to someone?"

“Have you, really? Is that why you are still hanging off the arm of your chair like a kitten hanging off a branch of a tree because you are too scared to be closer to me?”

I grimaced, before realising that adjusting in my chair would give me some cover. I slowly got up from my spot, unclasping my clutch carefully. I held the flap up with one hand and fished for my phone with the other while I sat down. I managed to enter the passcode without looking down.

“Just answer my question.” I settled down, hoping my attempts with the clutch looked like a nervous tick rather than anything calculated. I stared at him, trying to resist the temptation to look down. I went to the app I used when I wanted to record people for interviews. It was mercifully easy to start. Once that was done, I scooted back into the chair and pushed my phone deeper into my clutch, letting the flap loosely hang over it.

“I will,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Ask me again later in the conversation. I will answer it then.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. What was he playing at? He sounded as if he –

“I have already planned this conversation in my head.”

I must have looked thoroughly alarmed and morbidly amazed, for he chuckled.

“Do you not find it fun to have an argument with you playing both yourself and your opponent? Rehearsing every line so that it makes you feel good and you can deliver the winning point every single time? Not that you are my opponent, of course,” he added, “but rather, my teammate, as I had said in the morning.”

I couldn’t hold back the snort that escaped me.

“Oh, come now,” he admonished. “And people say _I_ am the pessimistic one.”

 _You’re the delusional one_ , I wanted to add, but wisely didn’t. 

“Even you cannot deny we make a good team when we are not verbally sparring with each other. You are not terribly unobservant for a Midgardian. That, or my standards have fallen,” he muttered.

“That implies you had any in the first place,” I couldn’t help but add.

He looked delighted. “This is exactly why I tolerate you, Midgardian. You have been much more fun than your predecessors. At first, it was because I thought you were easier to bully – and you were. But, it is so much more than that. You are more fun because you are more interesting. You are,” he thought for a word, more for dramatic emphasis than being at an actual loss for words, “unpredictably predictable.”

Lordy lord, why was he always monologuing? _He’s a villain, that’s why_ , my brain offered.

“For example,” he went on, “I _predicted_ you would want to tell Stark about my revelation. But, I did not predict that you would not return to your apartment because you, rightly so, expected me to be there. I _predicted_ you would want to work hard and do more than what was asked of you. But, I did not predict you would put your work first to the extent that you pursued it even after I had almost killed you. I _predicted_ you would be full of fury and self-pity when I humiliated you this morning. But, I did not predict you would give back as good as you got so spiritedly. And, I _predicted_ you would try your best to get out of this situation right now. But,” he leaned forward, eyes glinting manically, “I did not predict you would use your communication device to record our conversation.”

Icy fear gripped my heart and my trembling returned tenfold. How had he known? 

“Darling,” he cooed, “I am the God of Mischief and Lies. I have wrecked mischief and chaos the likes of which you cannot dream of even in your dreams. Did you really think you would be able to trick me?”

I remained mute, my lips pursed shut, my teeth chattering.

“Answer me.”

“No, no.”

He reclined slightly. “No. I am not discrediting you, mind. What you attempted was… clever. But, in the future, leave the espionage to Romanoff. Now, hand over the device.” 

I pulled out the phone and deposited it with shaky fingers into his waiting hand. His fist closed around the phone and then –

_Crack._

“NO!” I yelled, forgetting myself.

His eyes whipped up, flashing. “Silence!”

“Why did you break it?” I yelped. “You could’ve just deleted the recording, for fuck’s sake! Do you even know how much phones cost in this economy?”

He looked at me, slightly puzzled. “Is the cost of your primitive technology really what is bothering you in this moment?”

“I am a PR, I need my phone and contacts!” I screeched. “Did you break the memory card as well? Oh, god, how the fuck am I going to get all that information back now? How the fuck am I even going to cough up money for a new phone?” I wailed.

“You Midgardians and your petty worries,” he scoffed. “There is far more at hand here than –”

“Than _what?_ ” I snapped. “Than me not paying attention to you? Is that why you keep tipping over my drink whenever I talk to someone? Are you jealous?”

He laughed, incredulous. “You think I am jealous of a mortal man?” 

“Thor isn’t mortal!”

“You think,” he growled, “I am jealous of _any_ man?”

“You tell me!”

“I am not!”

“LIAR!” I screamed and leapt up from my chair. “YOUR PANTS ON FIRE!” I bounced up and down as I pointed at his pants.

It was official. I had lost the last of my sanity. 

He stood up, too. “ _Mortal_ ,” he warned, as if to remind me of my perishability, “sit down or I will –” 

“Kill me?”

“Yes!”

“Do it!” I retorted and derived an unhealthy amount of satisfaction from seeing the look of shock, however momentary, cross his face. “I will face god and walk backwards into hell!”

Oh, if I’d only spent the time I’d spent looking at memes in training harder for Clint instead… I’d be unstoppable.

Loki’s lips parted, no doubt, in shock. Clearly, it was his first initiation into the millennial obsession with dying combined with the millennial tendency to have an existential crisis. For a while, the only sound in the room was our panting. I thought I was done with the smartassery, but I was not.

“Did you ‘predict’ _this_ , you ass?” Clearly, I had a really bad survival instinct. 

“Do _not_ –”

“Fix it,” I said firmly. 

“Whom do you think I am?” He spat. “And, whom do you think _you_ are to order me? I am –”

“Loki, fix my phone. You can delete the recording and all evidence of it, but if you don’t fix my phone, I will start screaming. Then, you will have to kill me and let me tell you, buddy, there’s little else I’d welcome right now.”

“Do you even know what it feels like to die? How it feels like to fall into the gaping maw of space? How it feels like –”

I opened my mouth, inhaled and threw my head back, but before I could let out a scream, he interrupted.

“Alright, alright, fine! I will fix your device!” He snarled.

A green glow appeared around his hand and I watched the cracks mend and the pieces reattach themselves. It was surprising how much you could get away with when you had no fear of dying and had modified a meme to tell a literal god that you would face him as you walked backwards into hell.

He slammed the phone on the table, almost breaking it again. I dove for it, but he pushed it away.

“I want to check if you’ve fixed it properly!”

“Enough,” he growled.

I decided to not push him further. I sat back down in the chair, not exactly comfortable, but closer to it than before. Once we’d both calmed down somewhat, I resumed the dialogue.

“How long have you had your powers?”

“Ever since the Convergence,” he answered, as he resumed his place on the couch. His surliness gladdened me. “The event in London,” he clarified impatiently. “One gets conferred with certain powers when one becomes the heir to the throne of Asgard.”

“The heir to the throne? But, that’s Thor!”

“Thor has abdicated,” he said tersely.

“What? Why?” I asked, beyond shocked.

He shrugged. “To be with Jane. And, because he does not wish to bear the burden of rule anymore. He has... changed," he added, almost as an afterthought. 

I let that sink in. I did not need to understand Asgardian politics to know that the idea that Loki was one day going to be king was rather distressing. “So, you are to be king?”

“I am to be king.”

I mulled over it, going over past conversations. “Is that… is that why you keep throwing in my face that you are going to get out for sure one day?”

“Yes,” he exhaled.

“Do the others know? About you being the heir, I mean.”

“Of course.”

“So, if you have your powers, then why not break out already?”

“My seiðr – my powers, as you put it – is still heavily restrained by this,” he bent over and rolled up the left pant leg. A heavy gold bracelet – not unlike an ankle monitor – rested around his foot. If I squinted, I could make out some runes and other engravings on it. He rolled the leg down. “It subdues not just my seiðr, but also some of my physical durability. I am still a lot stronger and faster than any mortal, but not as strong and fast as I could be.” 

“So, you’re under a house arrest of sorts.”

“I suppose that is one way to put it. Because I am now the heir to Asgard, I can tap into the Hliðskjálf - the throne of Asgard. The Hliðskjálf is not unlike a pool of power, into which the king and the heir can tap. That is why I have been able to start freeing myself little by little from my magical constraints these past few months. Before Thor abdicated, before the Convergence, I was not able to do even that much. It has been a struggle as it is to exercise my powers safely. I walk a fine line as I try to tap into Asgard and Hliðskjálf to strengthen my efforts without actually _using_ those powers and inadvertently alerting Heimdall – the guardian who watches over all the Nine Realms.”

I frowned as I tried to keep up with the information. “I see.”

“It has also been vexing to summon enough seiðr to do what I want, while at the same time not summoning too much of it and making sure it is masked well enough so as to not alert Heimdall, or even Stark’s artificial intelligence. Suffice to say, as long as this restraint is on – and it is impossible for me to remove it – I will not be able to fully wield my seiðr. Besides, it might be better not to.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “The only reason why I was sent back to Midgard after the Battle of New York is because Frigga pleaded for me.”

“Who’s Frigga?”

“The Queen of Asgard,” he said shortly.

“So,” I whispered, “Your and Thor's mother?”

His body tensed and I could see a tick in his jaw. “As I was saying, she is the Queen of Asgard and she intervened for me. On Midgard, she felt, I could begin redeeming myself, even if that is not what she mentioned to Odin at first. My first year in Midgard was even more dreadfully boring, but I devoted that time to studying the Convergence. Thanks to my recent... dealings, I was able to discover that the Dark Elves - the entities who wrecked the destruction in London - were not extinct as we had all believed. Odin, of course, was not ready to listen. But, Frigga did. Frigga always does," he said heavily. "Regardless, once you predict the return of the Dark Elves, save the life of the Queen of Asgard and the Nine Realms from their machinations, get impaled by a spear while saving the life of the Crown Prince of Asgard and the Nine Realms, save the entire universe and then, end up becoming the heir to the throne yourself, you win the right to ask for a reward. Frigga again intervened for me and this time, explicitly asked that I be allowed to redeem myself and pay for my crimes against Midgard and Jötunheim.”

“So you are playing ball for your mother – for her?” I amended when I saw him tense again.

“’Playing ball?’”

“Playing by the rules.”

“Yes and no. I do not want to disappoint her. But, there is the question of Odin as well. He was livid when Thor abdicated and even more livid once he realised who would take his place. He has already lived for well over four thousand years, but I believe he will try for five thousand more just to spite me. I am, as you would say, on thin ice here, for he is looking for the slightest opportunity to deprive me of the throne and convince Thor to take it up again. And I will not let anyone,” he said through gritted teeth, “not even Odin, take away from me what is mine, even more rightfully than ever before.”

There was a long silence after that as I soaked in the information and he mulled over the past.

After a long while, I asked, “Why tell me all this? I mean, okay, I kind of get why you told me about you having your ‘seiðr’ to reassure me that you've got the Robson situation under control, but why give me all this detailed backstory and context?”

He looked at me oddly as he thought about what to say. That was odd in itself, for he always had a response at the tip of his tongue. “I see no harm in satisfying a young one’s curiosity.”

I could sense that there was something he wasn't sharing, but decided to not call it out. “Thanks, senpai,” I said wryly. 

He arched an eyebrow in question.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “It will take me far too long to explain internet culture and anime to you.”

“It is just as well, then, that you are here to stay.”

I looked at him sharply. He had given me an idea. I could – and should – quit as I’d planned. I could promise him I won’t tell Tony or anyone else ever. I would live with a lot of guilt, but I’d be alive and free of stress.

“So,” I cleared my throat, “what guarantee do you have that I will not go tell Tony? Not that I’m planning to. Not anymore. I’ve got the message loud and clear.”

“Do you take me to be a fool?” he asked, reverting back into the asshole mode.

“Nope. Absolutely not. Not at all,” I said quickly.

“Like I said, you are unpredictably predictable. I know you will go to Stark and inform him. You are not as much of a cowering wretch as most of your kind.”

“Thanks…?”

“What is unpredictable is how and when you will do it. And, what will be the catalyst for you to do it. I could bind you to do as I say, but that will be tedious, not just in terms of covering all loopholes but also in terms of exercising my seiðr. And it will not be as fun. No, instead, I will call upon a debt you owe me.”

“A debt I owe you?” I echoed, bewildered.

His pleasant demeanour slipped, only to be replaced by a feral grin. “Do you not remember two weeks ago when you wanted to take me to lunch?”

“What about it?”

“You promised me you will do _anything_ if I had lunch with you in the living room.”

“Oh my god,” I whispered as horror flooded me. “No. _No.”_

“Yes, darling. _Yes._ ”

“You can’t!” I said, my voice trembling as my tears began again. “What the hell!”

The grin widened. “I can and I will. And so will you.”

“Not this. Please, not this.”

“You said ‘anything,’ did you not?”

“I meant ‘anything’ as in ‘sneak you out to the gym’ or ‘get you to speak to someone!’” I cried.

“You meant ‘anything’ as in ‘anything’ and you will _not_ go back on your word.”

“I can’t, please!”

“You will. Do you know why?” He leaned towards me and I shrank back. “Because I will make life very, _very_ unpleasant for you and yours if you ever mentioned a word of this to anyone. Do not believe for a second I won’t. You know I can and you know I will. Be it tomorrow or ten years in the future, you will face the consequences.”

“You’re horrible. You are truly, truly evil,” I whispered. 

His expression turned sour. “What have I done to earn your derision? I promised you I will not hurt you or insult you. I even defended you against your supervisor. I did not say a single uncomplimentary word to you or about you throughout the evening. I did not touch you, save for when I had to quieten you just a while ago. But, you are a fool if you think that just because I agreed to do as you said, I would roll over and bare my throat even when you compromised me and went back on your word.”

I shook my head, too distressed to say anything.

“Surely, you did not believe I would let you off merrily without guaranteeing your silence?”

I clutched my forehead and tried to get myself back in control.

He sighed. “Norns, woman. I have not threatened you. I have only called in a debt and asked you to stick to the word you gave me. I am hardly being unfair.”

“I am jeopardising the lives of everyone on this planet!” I wailed and hid my face in my hands. "I don't expect you to understand how that feels like, obviously!"

“I told you, I do not have the capability to take over your planet even if I wanted to, which I do not. Not anymore. I will be the King of Asgard one day. Midgard will naturally come under my rule. I will do whatever I can to secure the throne for myself and if that includes ‘redeeming myself’ as Frigga put it, then so be it. This, then, is where you and the second part of your promise comes in.”

I removed my hands from my face. “Second part?” I squawked. “What second part?”

“The first part was having lunch with you, for which in exchange, you would not mention a single word from our conversation tonight to anyone. The second part was having lunch in the living room –”

“ _No!_ ”

“– for which you will promise to not resign from your post for the duration of my stay,” he finished coolly.

“There is no second part, Loki, it was a single deal!”

“No, it was not. I could have had lunch with you within my apartment. Or, I could have come with you to the living room and not had lunch. Our deal was made of two parts.”

“You bastard!” I screamed, beyond livid that he had trapped me in this fresh hell.

“Oh, yes, darling,” he chuckled darkly, “in more ways than one.”

“You cannot do this to me!” There had to be a way I could get out of this, right?

“We have already been over this. And remember, the consequences for not upholding both parts of the deal are the same.”

I snarled, knowing that my protestations were futile but desperately trying to find a way out. He had taken away my only hope of finding some peace and distance from this entire mess. What had I got myself into? I should've quit. I _had_ quit, but then I'd bought into his lies and honeyed words and now, I was going to be the reason many people would surely end up dead in the future.

He merely laughed. “Let this be a lesson for the future, darling. Ponder over your words more carefully when striking a deal, especially if it is with the God of Mischief.”

“Fine!” I exploded, desperate to have him get out of my sight. “Anything else you want me to do while we’re at it? Rob a bank? Kill a puppy? Burn a child?”

“Why, now that you mention it,” he began and laughed at the sound of me raging.

“Fine! I promise! Are you happy now?”

He stood up, still laughing. “Let us seal our deal by shaking our hands.”

“No.”

“You are being difficult, you know,” he said drily. Then, softly, he added, “I will not go back on our agreements prior to the party. Just because I have bound you from quitting, it does not mean that I will not treat you as respectfully as I promised. You have my word on this.”

“I do not care for your word!” I spat. “Is there anything else you want? Is there any way else you want me to suffer? Because if you don’t, then get out!”

“All I want is a handshake,” he said, trying to be innocent.

“Do you really think you can pretend to be all nice and friendly after bullying me into compliance?” I sputtered, incoherent from disbelief and rage “Leave.”

His face hardened as he withdrew his hand. “Very well.” He marched towards the door, opened it and shut it softly behind him.

I stared at the spot he’d been for a long while after he left. Then, I marched into my bedroom, yanked my dress off, furiously brushed my teeth and hopped into my bed. I considered bashing my head against the wall, but then I would've missed out the opportunity to bash his head against the wall someday. I fumed as I tossed and turned, yet despite the anger and adrenaline coursing through me, sleep came surprisingly quickly. 

It was the ringing phone that woke me up. I had to keep it on at night, in case there was any work-related emergency to answer, but that thought did nothing to cheer me up today. The was still on the coffee table where Loki had left it, so I had to actually gather my wits and get out of my bed than blindly shut off the phone. I thought it was only the phone ringing so early on Sunday morning that displeased me, but at the thought of Loki, I remembered the true reason behind my misery. Still, there was no time to think of that now. I picked up the phone, belatedly remembering that it had been broken and magically fixed by a god. I saw that it was around six in the morning and that I'd slept for roughly six hours.

The caller ID displayed Stella Lee.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Come to Tony’s office right now. Director Fury is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score: Reader/Scandal - 4; Loki - 5
> 
> 2\. The next few chapters will be a little calmer and of course, info/plot heavy. But, I have things planned. Lots of things. Muwahahahaha.
> 
> 3\. What did you think of the chapter? Did you like the wee headcanoning regarding Loki's powers and the Asgardian throne of *looks at smudged writing on wrist* Hiddlescalp? Did you like the changes to/ties into canon? Also, FRIGGA LIVES BECAUSE IN THIS HOUSE WE DON'T KILL MOTHERS, FICTIONAL OR REAL. *ahem*. Constructive criticism is welcome. 
> 
> 4\. Hope you all had a great start to the year! What did you guys get up to? I just stayed in bed and read about Sleipnir... so much so that I didn't even realise the clock had struck 12 while I was reading all THAT XD No regrets, though. 
> 
> 5\. I've also opened requests and prompts on Tumblr. Send me some if you like. And thanks for 500 kudos =)


	20. That Time We Dealt with a Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with Fury's assassination and more of Loki's shenanigans. Read this on [ Tumblr. ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/181930993247/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-20)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you mentioned last chapter that you were a bit leery about Scandal's constant state of being on edge. I guess if some of you are voicing it, a lot of you must be feeling it, and I wish to put things into perspective.
> 
> 1\. It's only been 2 weeks since the knifing episode. If I got mugged in Central Park, I'd be scared of going to Central Park at night for a very long time... and Scandal's had a literal god threaten her with an ISIS-style beheading. Safe to say, she hasn't got over it.
> 
> 2\. Chapters 14-19 have all happened in one day. That is, her 'taking measurements' and getting humiliated, Loki doing a 180 degree about turn and being nice, Robson having a go at her, she and Loki sharing an awkward fluffy moment, Loki regressing to an ass again, somewhat making up for it, then again threatening her life and trapping her have all happened on one miserable Saturday. For us, it's been 6 weeks of reading, but for her, it's been more like 6 hours. I would argue that it's really not surprising why she's constantly so angry and afraid, especially considering she still doesn't fully trust Loki and she's gone through major ups and downs with him so quickly.
> 
> 3\. I know we all want to be the person who's there for Loki to love and sympathise with him, and we want Scandal to be that as well, but shouldn't Loki also make an effort to prove himself worthy of that? He's been nice to her 2 hours out of the 2 months he's spent hurting and humiliating her. I'd say she doesn't owe him anything more than civility, if even that.
> 
> Hope this clarifies a bit on where I am going with regards to characterisation.

I traipsed to Tony’s office, looking as dead as I felt inside. I looked like a raccoon with splotchy, sunken eyes and equally splotchy, greasy skin. To top it off, my lip was bloody and swollen after I had bitten – no, _chomped_ – it last night in my angst. My hair was limp from the sweat that had accumulated on the pillow from my restless tossing and turning all night. My temper was as foul as my appearance. Clearly, I wasn’t going to be crowned Miss Congeniality anytime soon. The journey took way longer than it should have and I was already ready to crawl into my bed again. I knocked on the door, then entered, without thinking to wait or thinking to care for permission.

The rest of the PR team were already seated. I shuffled and collapsed into an empty chair around the immense boardroom table with a groan. It was a consolation to see that everybody else looked just as rotten as me. Clara, the team’s deputy, had her laptop open. Her eyes were feverishly moving from left to right and back. John, the investor relations guy, looked zoned out. Everyone else was on their phones, scrolling through their screens with varying levels of intensity.

Stella sat at the head, alongside the only remaining empty chair that was meant for Tony. Once I’d settled in, she spoke.

“Now that we’re all here,” she began, but changed track, “Tony, for the love of god, stop pacing and sit down.”

I hadn’t even noticed his silhouetted figure agitatedly walking up and down in front of the all-glass wall of his office. At Stella’s words, he stopped, walked up to the table, plonked into the last empty chair and propped his feet up. He looked worse than all of us combined, eyes blearily aggressive and hair that was sticking up in every direction. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn last night, though it was ruined by wrinkles now.

Tony stared at Stella and Stella scowled back, no doubt unimpressed by having Tony’s lower body right next to her hands and in her line of sight. She decided to not comment on it and cleared her throat.

“As I mentioned, Directory Fury has passed away. He was declared dead at one this morning. All of our most reliable sources have said he was assassinated.”

Approximately half of the table, including I, gasped. Perhaps it was the tiredness that prompted such a non-reaction from the others at the mention of an assassination, or perhaps they already knew.

Stella continued, “While that is grievous enough as it is, there is far worse news for us. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff have gone rogue. Captain Rogers is the prime suspect for the assassination, since he was the last person to see Fury before the attack and because Fury was in his apartment at that time.” 

That drew a reaction from all of us, except Clara, who looked positively manic now. Tony only rubbed his eyes and deflated in his seat. 

“Any further news?” Stella asked Clara.

“None,” she muttered. “The tech team still hasn’t been able to contact Hill and Clint hasn’t been able to get an ear into the hospital or reach Natasha. The tech guys have still been unable to find CCTV footage within five blocks of Cap’s apartment.”

Tony’s face had steadily darkened with every word said and he made no effort to hide his displeasure. “So, nothing then. SHIELD is cockblocking us and we’re blinder than Fury right now.” Then, he began talking to himself, “C’mon, you tricky son of a gun, why die right now? And why did you have to die in _Rogers’_ apartment? Could’ve come here and died at the entrance to the Tower but no! You _had_ to die in front of Rogers and trigger his Captain America alter-ego.” 

He swung his feet off the table, stood up and clutched his hair. “And what the _hell_ is up with Romanoff? It’s like I can trust no one around here! Can you believe it?” He yelled as he crouched down in front of Stella. He straightened and resumed his pacing. “I don’t know half of what’s going on in my own Tower! There’s like, two and a half people I can trust and that’s counting myself! Bruce just wants to be left alone, Thor is busy pretending he’s starring in Baywatch and I’ve already got his brother to deal with.” 

Linden, who managed the Tower’s internal communication, tentatively spoke up, “We still have Clint.”

“I don’t even know what game he’s playing!” Tony grumbled. “He’s still with SHIELD and if he thinks we’re somehow endangering Nat, then he’s going to do everything he can to throw us off scent. The question is, who does he feel more loyal towards? SHIELD? Nat? Fury? Steve? Probably not Steve, but we can’t eliminate that yet. It doesn’t matter, really. I really don’t have the time to solve this Doyle, Christie and Fleming crossover starring some modern day Lee Harvey Oswald.” 

“Tony, calm down,” said Anna, who handled crisis communication, and probably was the most alert yet calm of our group aside from Stella. “SHIELD might view Cap as a suspect right now, but it might soon clear him. There’s no point losing your cool yet. What we need to do is focus on getting you out there and making a statement before the media starts making their own news.” 

“Oh, I’m getting out there alright,” Tony muttered. “I’m flying to D.C. JARVIS –”

“Absolutely not!” Stella leapt up from her chair. “You are staying here with us and doing exactly as we and legal advise.”

“What I need to do,” he said, irritated and already on his way out, “is get to D.C. and solve this chucklefuckery.”

“Anthony Edward Stark, you listen to me!” she ordered, getting up after him. “I will _not_ have you destroy your reputation just because you are too stupid to listen to the people you hired to protect it!”

He turned around slowly. “I’m sorry, how is going to figure out exactly what has gone down in any way detrimental to my or the team’s reputation or your communication strategy? I’m getting you information that you can put out to the public!” Without waiting for a reply, he began sauntering towards the door again. 

“What if he did do it?” she blurted. “What if Rogers did kill Fury?”

He stopped. A cold, uncomfortable silence descended upon all of us as Stella’s accusation sank in. Even Clara looked up from her laptop. I almost bit my lip in apprehension, before I remembered that my lip was in no condition to be attacked again. 

“Stella,” Tony turned around again, a lopsided smile on his face, his hands splayed out. “He’s Captain America. The man who gave his life for his country – or thought he did, then decided to go for it again seventy years later after his meltdown, literally and figuratively.”

Her tone was as emotionless as her face as she said, “Obadiah Stane devoted his life to Stark Industries. It didn’t stop him from betraying everyone, including you.”

The atmosphere became even tenser. A myriad of expressions flitted through Tony’s face – rage, disbelief, anguish, shock – before he settled on another weak smile.

“Okay, first, that was completely different. And, second,” he said, a tremor creeping into his voice, “you don’t know Steve, okay? He folds his underwear, for fuck’s sake.”

Stella’s face reflected the shaky smile on her employer’s face. “Tony, I don’t know Captain Rogers well enough, fine. But, Natasha does. Why would she be with him and why are they both off the radar? Her track record isn’t the cleanest and even if Rogers is innocent – which he surely is –” she hurriedly added to placate Tony, “– being associated with her in something as insidious as an assassination doesn’t bode well for any of us.”

Tony’s hands flew to his face. “God,” he groaned and slid down to the floor.

Everyone jumped from their chairs in panic. “Tony!” we all cried as we ran to him.

“Nobody touch me!” He shrieked from his spot on the floor, face still hidden in his hands. We stood around him, arms extended awkwardly.

“You’d think,” he muttered, “that _I_ was the one who got murdered, judging by how you all are reacting.”

“Well, sorry for being concerned about you,” Linden said wryly.

Tony let out a chortle. He finally pried his hands away and stood up with a grunt. “Okay, JARVIS!” 

“Yes, sir?” The familiar pleasant, British male voice of the AI came through.

“I need you to start looking through Natasha and Steve’s SHIELD personnel files. I want all info on their solo and group missions this past month. Also, look through Fury’s records as well. Where he went, who he met, what he had for lunch – anything.”

“Yes, sir. I have also begun identifying the kinds of encryptions on these files and their source to inform you who and what you’re dealing with.”

“Also, Tony,” Stella added, “we need to monitor what the SHIELD officers in the Tower are saying.” 

“Ms. Lee,” the AI continued, “I have alerted the Avengers’ surveillance department to decrypt communications and address them to Mr. Linden Roberts.”

“Cool. So, Stella,” Tony said as he began making his way back to the table, us in his wake, “what’s your game plan here?”

“Leslie, Anna and Sam will work on news releases, talking points and social media posting schedules. They will have this up and running within the hour.” 

The three individuals in question nodded.

“Once this is done, the team will start fielding media inquiries, follow all coverage in D.C. and gather information from SHIELD’s communication team. Additionally, Linden and Elise, you will be taking care of communicating to the employees and answering their questions and keeping an eye on what the SHIELD agents deployed in the Tower are talking about. Clara, I and Anna will sit with you, Tony, and legal and prepare for a press conference and any questions that could come from the Senate and SHIELD. We also need something that gives us positive coverage.”

Roisin shrugged. “A lunch commemorating the life of Nick Fury with prominent guests from all over the world coming here would do the trick.”

Stella nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. You and Scandal can begin working on that. And, begin arranging for a press conference as well, for we will have that sometime soon. Also,” she looked directly at me, “this crisis takes precedence over everything else. Loki is not a priority now, understood?”

“Absolutely,” I said glumly, not because I wasn’t thrilled to have an excuse to not see him, but because she’d reminded me that he existed and that the whole of yesterday was not a dismal nightmare.

She clapped her hands. “Right, so –”

“Oh shit!” Clara cried.

“What? What is it?” Stella asked.

“They’ve started a manhunt for Cap!”

We all went rigid and Stella visibly blanched.

“What of Nat?” Tony asked gruffly. “Any news on her?”

“Nope,” Clara replied.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, focusing on taking deep breaths as if that were the only thing saving him from losing his mind. Then, he sprang up from his chair, patted his hair and tightened his tie.

“Alright, spin doctors. Those who need to work on news releases and all that fun stuff go get to it. Stella, Clara and Anna, we’re going to legal, we’re going to Barton and we’re going to figure out this shit.”

* * *

“Good evening, thank you for calling the Avengers Tower. How may I help you?” I said, not even bothering to fake enthusiasm anymore. You can’t help but lose your acting skills once you’ve been taking calls for the past twelve hours.

“You bunch of freaks should be ashamed of yourselves!” a man screamed into the phone so loudly that I had to hold it away. “I hope you all get locked up in prison in a straitjacket!”

“Thank you, sir. Can I get a name?”

The line went dead.

I wasn’t surprised. After all, no one wanted to leave their name on an anonymous hate call. I switched out of the document I was working on – a list of the journalists who would be coming to Tuesday’s press conference and the questions that some of them were submitting – and opened a datasheet. I scrolled down to the cells that said ‘should be ashamed’ and ‘be locked up’ and entered a mark for each under a new column. So far, there were 37 callers who’d said the former, 34 calls that said the latter and 23 calls that had said both.

Another call came. Before I could even take a breath, a recording started playing.

“YOU FRICKIN FRICKS! WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? WHEN WILL YOUR LEARN? THAT YOUR ACTIONS HAVE _CONSEQUENCES_!”

Disconnected.

My lips twitched as I scrolled down to the bottom of the sheet and entered a new cell: ‘actions have consequences.’ So far, the only named caller had been the principal of an elementary school who had vowed that she would stop letting her students carry Avengers’ action figures.

Roisin shook her head sadly. “What was it this time?”

“A vine.”

“What’s that?”

I sighed. It was in moments like these that I felt all too keenly about being the youngest member on the team. “A video reaction. Of course, I only heard the audio.”

Roisin shook her head again. “I don’t envy you, girl.”

“Stella was right. Our community relations efforts are shit.” 

That was why she’d put me on the duty to field calls from anyone who wanted to ‘voice an opinion,’ besides planning for Tuesday’s conference. Improving community relations was an ongoing effort and engaging with the community during a crisis was all the more important. Plus, it would constitute as research for future crisis communication and reputation rebuilding once we were out of the woods. Samantha was busy responding to social media and while she had a higher volume of messages coming in, at least she didn’t have to physically _hear_ ravings and rantings and obscenities.

“How many calls have you taken so far?”

I checked the sheet. “117.”

“You are a saint. I would’ve broken down by now.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said drily, thinking of Loki, “I have endured far, _far_ worse.”

I had worked the whole of Sunday and till Monday evening, subsisting on takeout and an hour or two of sleep here and there, only returning to my apartment to freshen up. Information kept coming in throughout the clock and we had to respond to it accordingly. Whatever we produced had to be first screened by the legal team and then rewritten as per their counsel. Legal’s advice was to remain silent and not even give a shitty platitude, whereas we operated on the principle that the public deserved to know as much as we could afford to tell. Naturally, tempers frayed and patience withered as we tried to reach the middle ground, and Elise found herself liaising between the teams more than monitoring SHIELD communications.  

Clint and Tony were on board together, which was a big relief for the entire Tower. It was bad enough that Captain America had absconded with one of the world’s deadliest assassins; no one needed another of the world’s deadliest assassins plotting against our boss. Their partnership had probably begun when SHIELD hadn’t called in Tony or solicited his help after the manhunt had begun. It was possible that SHIELD didn’t trust Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Even so, the fact that it hadn’t even informed him about the situation seemed unusual.

The atmosphere within the Tower was stressful. No one knew whom they could trust and communicating to employees within was as tricky as communicating to the media and other stakeholders. Investors and suppliers had already begun demanding answers and making threats to halt the flow of money and resources. Pepper too was facing steadily increasing censure from her board of directors as the share price of Stark Industries started dipping. Stella decided to loan Clara and John out to Pepper, which only increased the workload on the rest of us.

Come Monday evening, the team was sick to death of surviving on takeout and vending machine snacks for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past two days. So, the executive decision was made to send me out into the city and pick up food for everyone, as per their preferences, as a morale booster. As reward for my services and navigating New York at rush hour, I was allowed to take the rest of the night off.

I was exhausted, but I wouldn’t have traded a single moment of the past thirty-six or so hours for anything. I was not just handling a crisis – something that I’d only theoretically learned about in my classes – but I was handling a crisis for the Avengers. I was drawing upon everything that I’d learnt and been doing for the past two months in a time-sensitive issue. I was an active participant in all of it in a way that most of my peers in their entry-level jobs could only hope to be, and probably, would never actually be. It was hectic, challenging and demanding – and I loved it.

I fumbled with the sensor on my apartment door as I balanced my purse, laptop bag and food. It was pitch-dark inside, but most unfortunately, not pin-drop silent.

“And what sort of time is this for a young woman to return home?”

I jumped a foot in the air and dropped my food. I was so exhausted that despite my shock, I didn’t even scream. Go figure.

“Oh god,” I groaned into the darkness. “What do you want now?”

I would’ve taken a hundred more anonymous calls if it meant I could be free of Loki tonight.

He snapped his fingers and the lights turned on. I blinked rapidly till my eyes adjusted. He was sprawled, as usual, on my couch as if it were his throne. Realising the door was still open, I ran and slammed it shut, cringing as I stepped into the soggy food along the way.

“Can you _not_ do that?”

“Not do what?” he asked innocently.

“Not use magic like that!”

“Magic is meant to be used.”

I gave up. I sank to the ground, trying to scoop up as much food as possible. I didn’t care if it was on the floor. I was too tired to cook or order something new. I had lost all pride and self-esteem and I would’ve gladly stuffed the goop into my mouth straight from the floor if it meant that Loki left and I got to eat, watch Mishka the talking husky and sleep in peace.

Loki had probably sensed my intentions, for he said, “Are you _truly_ going to act no better than a rat in the street?”

I sat cross-legged on the ground, blearily staring at the mess, steadily zoning out. His words had almost flown over my head. The crisis had locked off all thoughts of Loki and his mayhem from my mind. But now, the anxiety and angst were returning tenfold and I had no energy left to try to figure out his machinations. I just wanted to turn my brain off.

“Do not ignore me,” he barked.

I looked up at him slowly. I wasn’t ignoring him, not really. I was just reconsidering if I should eat straight from the floor or scoop the food on to a plate. Our eyes met. 

“You look worse than Mimir’s shrunk and pickled head.”

He got up and slowly walked over to me. Crouching as close to me while being as far away from the mess as he could, he demanded, “What is the matter?”

I got up, not wishing to be anywhere close to him. I was in no mood for his fake sympathy and pleasantry. “Nothing.”

I walked to the kitchenette and opened the fridge, wondering if I was in luck. Of course not. I had not had the time the entire last week to do any grocery shopping.

“I will not suffer incompetence, girl,” he marched up to me and crowded me in. “You were supposed to come to my chambers in the morning and commence your work. If you think that you can get away with your debt by absconding from your work and testing my patience like so, then you are mistaken.” 

“Oh, however could I resist the chance to work for you,” I muttered. Before he could puff himself up to deliver a response, I added, “Look, believe it or not, but all of ‘my work’ doesn’t revolve around you. I have other things to do as well that take precedence over you. You can ask Tony, go ahead.”

His eyes narrowed. “What task is this?”

I pursed my lips. “I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

“You will tell me, or I will find out. And, trust me,” his voice dropped low, “you will not like the means.”

“When do I ever? What’s it going to be this time? Torture?”

He tittered. “Always so ready to think the worst of me. No, darling. Torture is so messy. I prefer something subtler.”

I sighed, in no mood to play his games. “I don’t think I’ll be able to come for the rest of the week, at the very least. Ask Thor what’s up, if you want. It’s not really a secret, but I’m not at liberty to talk about it.”

“Yes, I noticed it is not a secret. If it were, I am confident the SHIELD detail outside my rooms would not be so noticeably sparse, or that Barton would not be looking as morose as Thor does when he finds out he has to pick a lock, not smash it. Or, that no one is trying to hide why the Widow and the Soldier have gone missing together during this particular period.” A pleased smile etched itself across his face. “ _Or_ , that no one cares about me chancing upon those stray papers that you call ‘newspapers’ being found by the Tower’s secret resident in the living room.”

My brain sluggishly went over his words. “You know what’s up,” I said blandly.

His smile changed into a grin. “Oh, yes.”

“Then, why bother asking me?”

He shrugged. “I merely wish to hear you admit it.”

“Why?” I asked, even as I knew it was a pointless question. It was just another power game.

“Come on, just say it. I will even help you restore your… _food_ to an edible state. You look like you can do with a proper meal,” he scrunched his nose, “and a bath.”

“I’ll eat from the floor, thanks.” I tried to slip past him but he wasn’t having it.

“You will do no such thing.” Then, more softly, he added, “Come on, little Scandal. Give me a chance to be nice to you.”

“Loki, you don’t need a chance or pretext to be nice.”

“An excuse, then.”

 “You don’t need an excuse either.”

“Oh, just humour me.”

“ _If_ you must know, I have been working since six in the morning yesterday, surviving on cheap food, cheap snacks and caffeine to get through, barely slept for more than two hours at stretch and slept and worked in these same clothes. I haven’t been able to eat or drink anything hot because my lip hurts and I’ve been staring at computer screens for ten hours at a stretch and taking calls from people who’re more interested in putting me to the stake rather than taking information from me and who definitely do not want to even consider that _maybe_ the Avengers aren’t trying to take over the world and that _maybe_ we had absolutely _nothing_ to do with Nick Fury’s death – and that _maybe_ if they could trust the people who saved the world just a few months ago, not to mention, two years ago, then that would be really appreciated! There! Happy?”

His lips were twitching madly and his chest kept puffing and deflating, as if he were trying to subdue his laughter. Just as I thought he was going to throw another wisecrack at me, he waved his hand, not breaking eye contact. He moved away and beckoned me towards the coffee table. 

Mockingly inclining his head, he said, “A feast for my lady.”

There on the table lay my food, neatly stored in the containers as before.

I marched to the table and prodded the food. A snicker escaped him. He walked up to me, but before he could crowd me in again, I picked up the food and ran to the island table in the kitchenette. I fished out some cutlery, heaved myself on to the barstool and dug in. My eyes almost rolled back at the heavenly sensation of eating something resembling real food again.

“Come to the sofa,” Loki said.

“No,” I said between mouthfuls.

“It is alright,” he said genially. “I do not mind the stench of your body.”

I paused to glare at him before promptly returning back to my food. Then, he got up and parked himself into the barstool opposite me across the counter.

With a noodle hanging from my lip, I asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes were studying my every move, amusedly noting the lack of finesse and the lack of care for said finesse.

“Why are you here?” I asked at last, once I was full.

“Is there something wrong for me to visit my PR?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you have puppies to kill or something?”

“No, I rather like puppies. Kittens as well.”

“Then, go kill some babies.”

“There are no babies in the Tower.”

“Then, go read.”

“The books I have on hand are not to my interest.”

Distantly, I remembered how he had taunted me once when I had questioned him about his reading. It seemed all too long ago. “I thought your books were more interesting than a Midgardian like me could hope to be in a hundred years.”

He cocked his head, amused. “Someone knows how to hold a grudge.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best,” I grumbled.

“Indeed. But, I would also not be averse to reading a book on you. Then again,” he leaned forward, making the distance between us seem even smaller, “why read a book when I could talk to the subject in flesh?”

“I’m sure you still have more interesting things to do.”

The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “Maybe I do not.”

“Seriously, why are you here? What do you want?”

“Would you rather I leave?”

“Yep,” I said, without any hesitation.

“Well, too bad for you. I am here to stay.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “What? How long?” 

“Oh, I can stay all night long, if you prefer.”

That shook the passivity out of me. “No, please, please, no.”

He frowned and jerked back, widening the distance again. I tensed further, anticipating him to drag me across the counter. Then, he spoke, his voice even.

“I am many things, but I am not a brute. I do enjoy your fear, but it is wearisome to see you live in such terror of me.”

I let out a bitter chuckle. “It’s not like I have a choice and it’s not like I can trust you.”

“Why not?” He asked tersely. 

“Seriously? ‘Why not?’ I’m sorry, did I dream up the part where you put a knife against my throat? When you left me so _terrified_ –”

“ _That_ was an anomaly –”

“– and confused and tired that I didn’t even know how to process what was going on –”

“– and it will never happen again –”

“– and know how to feel about –”

“Norns, will you stop talking about it as if Ragnarök itself arrived! It was just a knife!”

“Just a knife?” I asked smally.

“Just a knife. It was hardly as if –”

“You were going to torture and kill me!”

“I assure you, mortal, it would hardly have been anything that could match what I have endured,” he scoffed. “You do not know the true meaning of pain until you have suffered as I have.”

“I do not care about what you’ve suffered!”

Fury, disbelief and disdain flicked across Loki’s face until he finally put on a mask of cold indifference. My rage dissipated as the full meaning of my words hit me. I could see him getting ready to rise and I dove to grab his still tightly clenched fists that rested on the counter. He flinched and pulled away his hands before I could touch him, hissing.

“I’m sorry!” I said hurriedly, remembering only too late that he had said he didn’t want to be touched. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, wait.”

He stiffened even further and I spoke before he could do anything else. 

“That didn’t come out right, I’m sorry. What I said was wrong, but I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry,” I pleaded. “Look, you’re right. I don’t know what you’re talking about or what happened to you, but I’m sorry it did. What I really meant was that okay, you may have endured things far more gruesome than I could even dream of and I’m sorry you have, but that doesn’t make what I felt any less important or real. You shouldn’t have suffered, but that doesn’t mean what I went through can be dismissed just like that.”

He had looked away as soon as I had begun speaking and he stayed that way even after I finished. His jaw looked sharper than ever now that it was clenched.

“How simple-minded you are to assume that I did not deserve everything that happened to me,” he gritted and the tick in his jaw became more pronounced, “and how unbearably naïve of you to tell me the depth of your fear. You think you are being strong, when in reality all you are showing is how weak you are.”

I stared at him in consternation. Why was it that even when he was being the vulnerable one – and there were precious few of those times – it was I who felt like an exposed nerve?

“Whatever happened to you was not right, period,” I said flatly. “And, as for me telling you how afraid I was, firstly, you asked why I didn’t trust you and secondly, it’s not as if it’s a revelation. You knew how it impacted me and I don’t see any reason why I should try to cover it up.”

He made a bitter noise. “And what will it take for you to trust me?”

The question took me by surprise. “I don’t know.”

“Would it help,” he asked, finally turning to look at me again, “if I told you that you are one of the two people in this tower I have conversed with these past few months?”

“Who’s the other?”

“Thor. And, of course, he does not know about my powers. Therefore, you are my sole confidante.”

I smiled thinly. “It’s hardly as if you trust me either, else you wouldn’t have called in a debt from before time and threatened me into compliance.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Would you not have run straight to Stark and his minions if I had not done so?”

“I would,” I admitted.

“Then, you cannot complain.”

“I guess. But my point is that trust is a two-way street and you can’t ask me why I don’t trust you when you don’t trust me either. I think,” I added with a snort, “it’s amazing enough that we are talking civilly to each other right now. That’s light years beyond what I expected, especially after Saturday, so we shouldn’t be complaining.”

“Probably not,” he said with a wry smile.

I smiled softly in return. It was unsettling how rapidly we switched from wanting to tear each other’s throats out to barely tolerating each other and then back to clawing each other again. And now… now we almost seemed to be settling into something resembling cordiality.

“So,” I asked, wanting to change the topic, “what have you been up to these two days?”

He decided to play along. “Oh, the usual.”

“Like what?”

“Training with Thor. Reading.” His tone was light, but there was something that was bothering me.

And then it hit me. He was lonely.  True, most of his loneliness was of his own making, but there was still something sad about relying primarily on his books and only one other person for company. And, he was bored. There was only so much you could read all day, every day. It lined up with his comments earlier about not wanting to read anymore. 

I wondered if that was how he’d spent his time these past two years and, if it were true, insufferable villain or not, I pitied him. He hadn’t said in as many words, but I understood now why he’d come tonight – and it gave me a feeling of power for the first time in a long while.

A silly idea hit me out of nowhere and I went with it before I could check myself. “Would you like some ice cream?”

He looked just as surprised as I felt at those words escaping me. “That frozen Midgardian confectionery?”

“Yeah.” 

“Is there a particular flavour?”

“Let me check.” I hopped off my stool and opened the freezer. “Hmmm, there’s chocolate chip cookie dough, chocolate and peanut butter, chocolate and caramel, and mocha, which is basically chocolate and coffee.”

It was concerning how I had more ice creams than actual food in my fridge, but hey, that’s adulthood for you.

“That is a lot of chocolate.”

“Shhh,” I turned around. “This is a no-judgement zone.”

“What is chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“Oooh, you haven’t tried that? Well, chocolate chip is just little chunks of chocolate. Cookie is a baked, somewhat crunchy sweet. So cookie dough is the unbaked dough for the cookie. It’s delicious! Okay, you know what,” I grabbed the ice cream, pulled out two bowls and spoons and settled back into my stool, “we’re trying chocolate chip cookie dough tonight.”

Shockingly, he didn’t argue with my decision. Instead, he waited patiently for me to put ice cream in both of our bowls. There were troughs in the mixture from when I’d repeatedly dug used spoons for that ever elusive ‘one last scoop,’ but Loki didn’t need to know that. Once I’d finished serving myself, he picked up his spoon and daintily raised it to his mouth.

“How is it?” I asked, nervous he wasn’t going to like it. It was an eerie parallel of the first lunch we’d had together, but I hoped that this little session passed more favourably.

He mused over the flavour for way too long before replying, “It is good. I would not mind another serving.”

Wonders of wonders, he liked, and actually admitted to liking, something!

“Yay!”

“Why are you not eating?” He nodded towards my spoon.

I’d been too busy studying his reaction. “Oh yeah, yeah!” I raised the spoon to my mouth and yelped at the freezing cold hitting my injured lip.

“Mortal?” he demanded. “What is the matter?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said as I carefully maneuvered the spoon into my mouth. “I’d just injured my lip. It’s not so bad now. You should’ve seen it yesterday. The swelling has gone down since, but the wound is still there.”

“I see. How did you injure it?”

“I bit it.”

He narrowed his eyes. He was silent for a while, looking like he was having some weird internal battle, before he leaned forward again. “Did you? Or was it that Midgardian boy?”

“What Midgardian boy?” I asked, confused, before realising whom he was talking about. “Oh, you mean Dan?”

His eyes narrowed further. “I do not remember, nor care, for that loon’s name.”

What was his preoccupation with him? “No, it wasn’t him. It’s all me.” Then, I giggled at the image of Daniel nipping at my lips.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Why are you dissolving into a giggling fit? I do hope you keep your wits about you; I will not have you being distracted because you are busy mooning about that boy.”

I gaped at him, partly amused, partly peeved. It was just a giggle, after all. “Loki, just eat your ice cream.”

We ate our dessert in peace then and we both went for second helpings. I liked the silence. It was… companionable. Eventually, though, my tiredness began returning and it was all I could do to stay awake.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I said after a while, “but I’m feeling really tired and I have to get up early tomorrow…”

“Of course,” he said and immediately got up.

I had fully expected him to leave his bowl and spoon on the counter and depart, but he surprised me by picking them up and carefully putting them in the sink. Then, in a couple of long strides he was at the door. He paused for a moment and I waited to see what he was going to do. 

“Good night,” he said and before I could get over this latest surprise, leave alone actually reply, he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score: Reader/Scandal - 4; Loki - 5
> 
> 2\. I've always been curious as to what the rest of the team was up to during the events of Winter Soldier. I've had a lot of fun writing this (and the next two chapters), especially from a PR perspective. I feel it's about time we put Scandal back into her natural habitat, eh? Let me know what you thought!
> 
> 3\. The next two chapters will also be dealing with the fallout. This chapter is spanning Sunday and Monday, the next will span Tuesday, and the third will span Wednesday-Saturday - just to give you all an idea of the timeline. Loki and she are also going to take significant strides forward, so don't give up hope. Again, I welcome constructive criticism as always and I try my absolute best in responding to you all, because I really appreciate you taking the time to read and review.
> 
> 4\. I've posted a new story, [ Five Midgardian Things Loki had No Idea About - and One Thing that He did ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341472/chapters/40799942) Give it a read, if you like. Warning: don't read if you don't like cards against humanity/offensive jokes and language related to that game.


	21. That Time We Handled a Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue dealing both with the crisis and with Loki's mood swings. 
> 
> Read this chapter on [ Tumblr. ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182118916622/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-21)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on Tuesday. The previous chapter took place Sunday-Monday. Chapters 14-19 happened on Saturday. The next chapter will take place Wednesday-Saturday.

“Give me an update on how the prep is going,” Stella said.

I pulled out my planner. “I’ve got the media kits printed and delivered. I counted them and we have enough for a hundred journalists and newswires, plus twenty extra. I’ve placed the media kits on all of the chairs. I’m expecting the breakfast delivery in about ten minutes. Tables, napkins and dispensers have all been laid out. Utilities have cleaned the space, so we’re good on that. Morgan’s looking at our camera cables, lenses and lights inventory, just in case someone’s equipment goes bust. She’s also checking the audio systems right now. Roisin is going over the security arrangements right now. I think she said the precinct will be sending three police officers at seven. We’ll do a run-through at seven as well and open doors at seven-fifteen.”

Stella nodded. “Alright. You’ve been working on the journalists’ profiles all throughout Sunday and Monday. You should be able to pick out journalists who’ve submitted their questions and the ones after that who will ask us the best unscripted questions, correct?”

I shrugged. “I think so.”

“Are you up to the responsibility of doing exactly that once we open the floor? I want you to get some experience in front of a rolling camera.”

Her question – and her willingness to put me out there – had thrown me off. “Are you sure about that? I mean, this is a huge crisis and I don’t want to screw up things. Roisin would probably be better at this, or Leslie, of course. Their forte is media relations, you know.”

“Yes, I do know very well,” she said wryly. “Leslie is busy keeping track of the D.C. media coverage and monitoring digital media with Sam. I’ve given Anna a bit of a break, she has been working nonstop since Sunday and been advising John and Clara on the Stark Industries’ crisis as well. So, that leaves you. What better opportunity to learn than by doing it when you’re in the thick of it?”

“Well, if you think I’m up to it,” I said, not very confidently.

“If I’m asking you if you want to do this, then yes, I think you’re up to it. However, I need you to take the initiative. There is absolutely no space for any hesitation. So, what’s your answer?”

I exhaled. I was tempted to take the easy way out. Besides, I genuinely didn’t want to screw up. But I’d be damned if I wasn’t more than a tiny bit excited. “Yes, I will do it.”

Stella smiled. “Atta girl. Get to the rest of the prep, now. Have you eaten breakfast?”

“I had a bite.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Get a proper breakfast, right now. And get yourself hydrated.” Her smile returned, wider than before, as she said, “And, good work.”

I beamed at her and went about the rest of my work with a better mood and a spring in my step. Things seem to be getting under control and the pressure was slowly coming off most of the team. I was confident that by the end of this week, we’d be celebrating another win. Catering delivered the breakfast shortly and I nicked a bagel, a muffin, a banana, coffee and a bottle of water for myself. I dug into my food enthusiastically, then busied myself with the rest of the preparations. Once all that was done, I positioned myself in the entrance to the auditorium to greet and sign-in the journalists and their crew.We were able to start the conference at 8 am sharp. Tony had eventually settled on a dark grey suit, which looked good against the white background bearing the Avengers’ insignia. Stella looked as poised as always in a grey skirt-suit and her hair done up in a French twist. She beckoned me and I ran over to the stage and patted the mic on the podium to the side a few times.

“Hi, everyone,” I began, legs shaking and palms sweaty from speaking up to a large crowd of bloodthirsty journalists, “Good morning and thank you all for coming to the Avengers’ news conference. We will be beginning very shortly and we would appreciate if you could take your seats.”

Once the din had died down, everyone settled and Stella and Tony seated at the head table, Stella spoke up.

“Good morning everyone, I am Stella Lee, CCO of the Avengers Initiative and I have with me Tony Stark, founding member of the Avengers Initiative and owner and former CEO of Stark Industries. We will be making a short statement and will open the floor to a maximum of ten questions.”

She cleared her throat and began. “Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury was not just the Director of SHIELD; he was a visionary. He envisaged a world that was strong, at peace and defended. For that, he created the Avengers. He trusted Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner and Thor to carry out this mission – the same way he trusted Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. In turn, the team placed its trust and devotion in him. If there were ever to be a symbol for world peace, it would be Col. Fury. Attacking him equals to attacking this peace and the Avengers would never stand for either. Col. Fury placed his trust in us, and particularly in Cpt. Rogers and Ms. Romanoff, and they placed their trust in him.

“We cannot doubt their devotion to him, and to doubt Col. Fury’s trust in them is to doubt his legacy. The Avengers offer their full and unconditional support to SHIELD in finding out the ones responsible for this tragedy. We are constantly monitoring the situation and would like to remind SHIELD that we are ready to protect SHIELD’s and our citizens’ interests if and when called upon. We will now be opening the floor to questions. At this time, we will not be entertaining queries about Stark Industries.”

That was my cue. The babble of the journalists and the flashing of the cameras increased exponentially. I found out the first journalist on our list and called her name, “Gayle Rogers, KTTA.”

“Thank you. Mr. Stark, how can you be sure Cpt. Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are, indeed, acting in SHIELD and the citizen’s interests?”

Tony consulted the list of key points that Stella had made for him and, being Tony, threw in his own spin on it.

“How can you not?” he retorted. “They saved the city and the world. I think they’ve earned the benefit of doubt, at least until we all have all the facts, yes? Steve Rogers gave his life for his country seventy years ago and has put his life on the line over and over again ever since he woke up. Fury trusted him – and Romanoff – more than he even trusted me. And personally, I would advise you against doubting Fury. He has this irritating habit of proving everyone else wrong, and that’s not going to change even from beyond the grave.”

“Next question,” I blurted, sensing that things were going a little too off-book. “Um, Harry Jager, New York Times.”

“Are you working with SHIELD to apprehend Cap. Rogers and Ms. Romanoff?”

“We are willing to work with SHIELD,” Tony said pointedly, “to met out justice to the individuals responsible for this incident, ensure we all can match up to Fury’s trust in us and uphold our citizen’s interests.”

Harry made a move to ask a follow-up question but I cut him off before he could. “Thanks, Mr. Jager.” I pretended to look over the crowd, not paying any heed to the who were aggressively screaming over each other to get their questions out, then gestured. “Please, Chris Rollins, CVN.”

“Mr. Stark, how are we supposed to trust you?”

Stella put her hand on Tony’s arm in a gesture of comfort that I knew was scripted.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, then began. “Well, I did save the city from being nuked, closed a wormhole in space and paid for restoration of the city and healthcare and food for affected citizens, but if that is not enough for you, then place your trust in Fury. Place your trust in Fury, who trusted Rogers and Romanoff far more than he trusted me.”

It was deftly done. Nick Fury did not have much of a public profile, for obvious reasons. He was more popular in death than he was in life. No one would ever dream of questioning this man whom we had presented as this legendary messiah and visionary and no one could raise objection to him trusting Steve and Natasha without sounding disrespectful. The scripted questions were now over and it was my responsibility to strategically choose someone who would ask us a question we could conveniently answer.

My eyes fell on Christine Everhart, who used to work for Vanity Fair, but had now moved on to WHiH World News. It was common knowledge within the team that she and Tony had shared a ‘history.’ She was a wild gun, but Tony liked her for she had been the one to alert him about the illegal weapon sales to the Ten Rings. She was a good bet for making the conference look less prepared.

“Christine Everhart, WHiH,” I called out.

She beamed and I immediately regretted my decision. “Mr. Stark, you’ve clearly gone to great lengths to state how much trust you all have in each other. Yet, why is it then that SHIELD has refused to associate in any way with you and the Avengers or accept your help in any form after this incident?” 

Stella took the mic, for if Tony couldn’t be relied upon to answer scripted questions, then he sure as hell couldn’t be relied upon to answer unscripted ones. “Thanks, Christine. I’d say that’s a question better asked to SHIELD.”

Before I could call in a new question, Christine butt in. “But, what would _you_ say, Stella?”

“ _I_ would say that SHIELD is doing what it believes to be best for peace, security and our citizens’ interests and finding out who was behind this. The Avengers have offered full and unconditional help to SHIELD to meet these goals. Of course, we cannot impose our help but we are confident that SHIELD recognises that we too have the same mission and the same desire to do justice by Col. Fury.”

“Thanks, Christine,” I said quickly. “Will Adams, Washington Post.” Will Adams was a political correspondent and likely, he would be bringing up the Senate’s debate on suspending the Avengers following Fury’s death. I wasn’t disappointed. 

“Stella, what do you have to say about the Senate’s decision to create a committee to investigate the Avengers’ involvement in Nick Fury’s assassination?”

“Yes, that committee is chaired by Senator Stern, isn’t it?” she asked. An uneasy laugh ran through the crowd. Everyone was familiar with how Stern had come after Tony multiple times, be it about his conduct or to confiscate his Iron Armour. “We welcome any inquiry that the Senator wishes to lead, provided that he bases his investigation on claims other than Tony Stark and his Iron Armour being a threat to the security of the United States. We would also encourage him to remember the deep trust and respect Col. Fury had in Tony, even though Tony has severely downplayed that.”

We were only at five questions, but I felt it was a good point to stop. Questions after now would be either extremely repetitive and trivial, or extremely accusatory. I turned to Stella questioningly and she gave me a nod and a subtle gesture. 

“Thank you everyone for attending the conference,” I said over the crowd that had already erupted into an uproar. “These are all the questions we will be taking for now. Please remember to consult your press kits, or contact us for any further information. Your press kits include invitations to the lunch we will be hosting in Director Fury’s honour at 11 am this Saturday. Have a good day!”

Stella nodded at me as she ushered Tony out. I got busy with saying goodbye to some of the journalists and ‘letting slip’ some off-the-record information that the team had already prepared and decided to plant. Cleaning up took a surprisingly long time and I was already exhausted even though it was only 10 am. Stella sent for me as soon as I returned to the office suite.

“How did that feel?” she asked.

“Stressful,” I admitted.

“It is, isn’t it? Still, you did very well. You were calm and completely in charge of the situation.”

I flushed. “Well, I didn’t have much to do.”

“You knew how to go about not making it obvious which journalists you were picking, you moved on to the next question swiftly enough and you knew when was a good time to end. You did good,” she said deliberately.

I let out the breath I was holding and beamed. “Thank you, Stella.”

“What did you have in mind when you selected Everhart and Adams?”

“Well, I thought Everhart would be good to make the conference look a little less staged. As for Adams, I knew he is a political correspondent and that he’d ask about the Senate’s discussion on the Avengers.”

She nodded. “You were bang on about Adams. And, I get what you mean regarding making things look more objective, but next time, I’d select someone like Allan Stevens or even Amira Ahmed.”

I nodded. “Sorry about that, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“No need to apologise. You did well.” She looked at me curiously. “Has Robson contacted you at all?”

“No,” I frowned. “It’s so weird. I haven’t seen or heard of him since he left the party on Saturday, presumably because of news regarding Fury.”

Stella shook her head wearily. “I have no idea what is going on, really. I long for the days I’d thought that Tony getting kidnapped by the Ten Rings was the worst crisis ever. Anyway,” she said, snapping out of her sudden melancholy, “good job. We might be able to make a crisis communicator out of you yet.” She smiled. “Well, I’ve got to check in with Clara and the people at Stark Industries. Please transcribe this conference for me and do whatever else is on your list.”

“Yup,” I said and began making my way back.

Her words kept echoing in my head. I’d been living and breathing – and even dreaming of – this crisis these past three days. It was one constantly harrowing situation with barely a break. Yet, I’d been on top of my work, I’d been able to adapt myself to the situation and stay focused, if not optimistic. 

It was in stark contrast to how I was around Loki, when just three minutes of interaction with him made me want to pull my hair out. All I could do around him was try not to scream and cry, then scream and cry anyway, and try to keep up with the situation. Maybe I was not cut out to be a crisis communicator the way Stella was thinking, or maybe, it was entirely Loki’s fault. 

I tried to shake off that line of thought – blaming and cursing him was going to do precious little now that he had so decidedly trapped me in my position. I would have to give thought to him when the crisis was over and not a second before, for there was still a lot of work to do. I immersed myself in transcribing the recording of the conference that Morgan had provided, and other videos of interest sent by the team. So busy was I that I did not notice lunchtime come around, or the completely unexpected guest in the suite.

“Who’s that?” Roisin nudged me.

I turned to look in the direction she was pointing. I blinked in surprise. It was Daniel.

“Oh, that’s Daniel Larsen,” I gulped. “He’s in, um, quantum computing division.” I was pretty sure the division was called something else, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the correct name. 

“How do you know?”

“Oh, I met him on Saturday. At the party. What is he doing here?”

The answer became clear as he noticed me and waved at me. He held up a parcel and pointed at it then at me.

Roisin elbowed me. “Well, clearly he’s here for you. Go on, take a break.”

“What?” I looked back at her. “No, no. I’ve got too much work to do. I’ll eat later.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You’ve been up since four in the morning. I’ll cover for you. You can do me a favour later, okay?”

I shivered. After what had happened with Loki, I never wanted to be in anyone’s debt ever again, but I couldn’t tell Roisin that. She was right, though. I was tired, my eyes were dry and I desperately needed food and a break. I picked up my purse and skipped to him.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he smiled widely. “I saw you on TV. You were looking good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I grinned. “It was nothing, really.”

“I don’t know, man, I would have shat my pants if I had to stand up there in front of a crowd.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to comb out the tangles somewhat, and laughed. “You’re too sweet, but thanks.”

“Yeah, I figured you’ve been working very hard these past few days, so I thought I’d bring you lunch. Have you got some time on hand? If not, just take this and munch away at your desk.”

My eyebrows lifted in astonishment. Who would’ve thought he’d be such a sweetheart? I certainly wouldn’t have thought of making a gesture like this if it were the other way around. “Oh, no, I’ve got some time. Do you want to join me?”

“Sure!”

We went down to the food court and I insisted on buying him a coffee for he had paid for my lunch, and a frap for myself. The sugar was going to make me sleepy, but hell, I’d earned the treat.

“Not getting thirty shots of espresso for yourself?” he asked as we settled into our chairs.

“Honestly, I’ve been drinking so much coffee that I never want to see any more coffee ever again. I’m just trying to save the hardcore caffeine for when I need it.”

“Sounds fair. How have you been otherwise? I’m sorry I didn’t contact you beforehand. I literally just thought of bringing you some food.”

“No!” I gushed. He was sorry he didn’t contact me? And here I hadn’t even given him a single thought other than yesterday with Loki. “It’s completely fine! It’s been great. I really appreciate it. And, well, I’m exhausted. I want to sleep and eat proper food. But, I like it, you know? I’m doing something big and important. I’m doing actual work for great people. What more could I ask for? Anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Very true. And, I’m fine, thanks. I’ve been a little too free, lately. Tony was working with me and my team on a project but he’s practically stopped coming in. Plus, I’ve had to stop a lot of the projects because there is a worry that SHIELD’s going to misuse them, or use them against us. I’ve had to give up a lot of my personal projects too, because we still have to keep SHIELD happy, so I’ve had to take up some small stuff that SHIELD wants done.”

“Sounds rough, yeah.”

“Have you got any idea when all this is going to get over?”

I pursed my lips in sympathy. “No clue, sorry. Believe me, I want it over just as much as you do.”

“Oh, really?” He teased. “Didn’t you just say you _liked_ doing this.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want to keep doing just this.”

“What else do you want to do?”

I thought of Loki and quickly dismissed that thought away before it dampened my mood. “Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“How stuffy of you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you ever not cheesy?”

“Nope. Hey,” he asked suddenly, “what happened to your lip?”

I flushed, remembering all too well Loki’s insinuation that it was Dan who’d caused it. “I bit it accidentally.”

“Bit it? Or gnawed at it?”

“Cut me some slack, okay? It’s been a stressful week.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

I flushed yet more. And here I thought Loki’s remark was mortifying. “What is it with you and cheesy one-liners? Aren’t you supposed to be a nerd?”

I’d stalked him a bit on social media. MIT nerd, like Tony. Graduated early, like Tony. Had been a beneficiary of Tony’s September Foundation. I could see why Tony liked him. He had two sisters, one older and one younger. After spending all his life in Massachusetts, he finally did what all kids in Boston were desperate to do: move to New York. I’d found no information on past girlfriends.

“Why can’t I be both?” he asked impishly.

“It’s not possible.”

“Oh, I make it possible.”

“Whatever,” I drawled. “Go play Minecraft in your mom’s basement.”

He chortled at that, but didn’t say anything more. I quickly finished my food and stood up.

“Thanks for that, really. I needed it,” I smiled.

“You’re most welcome. And, if there’s anything more I can do for you, then hit me up!”

“Well, you could buy groceries for me,” I joked.

“Sure, what do you need and how much of it?” He asked, completely serious.

“I’m joking!”

“I’m not.”

“Well, it’s alright, but thank you.” I studied him. His chocolate brown hair was tousled as if he’d fallen asleep then hastily tried to rearrange it. He was wearing an off-white jumper that brought out the light freckles on his cheeks that I hadn’t noticed the night of the party. He looked warm – literally and figuratively. 

A strange impulse took hold of me and my voice wavered as I asked, “Well, actually, this might be asking too much and I don’t want to sound like a creep, but can I get a hug?”

He looked taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled even more broadly. “Of course! I wanted to ask you, but I was worried as well you’d think me a weirdo.”

I stepped closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me. His jumper carried the familiar smell of freshly-washed clothes. His hand lightly stroked my back and I hugged him a little tighter, rejoicing in the sensation. It was exactly what I needed.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice muffled. “It’s been almost two months since someone hugged me.”

At that, he hugged me even tighter. After a few more seconds, we let go.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling, but unable to look at him directly.

“Of course,” he said gently. “No one should go without a hug for that long. And if you need any more hugs, you only have to ask.”

I nodded. “And, thanks for the lunch. Wait,” I said, as yet another bizarre idea clicked into my head. “Can I ask you for something else?”

“If it’s a kiss, then you’ll have to earn it.”

“Shut up,” I smacked him.

He laughed. “What can I do?”

“Do you have a puzzle book? Like, Sudoku, crossword, math puzzles, blah blah blah, seeing that you’re a nerd?”

“You’re stereotyping me here.”

“Do you or do you not?”

“Yeah, I think I have a bunch,” he admitted and I grinned. “Thinking of coming over to the nerd side?”

“No, it’s for a friend.” I was using the term ‘friend’ very, very loosely, because Loki of Asgard was certainly _not_ a friend. I was pissed I was even thinking of him in this moment with Dan, but I reasoned with myself that it’s for the greater good, because he was the last person who should be sitting around idle and bored. 

“Okay, sure, I’ll dig up my books and send them around, yeah?” 

“Sounds perfect! Thank you! And thank you once again for the lunch! I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“For sure. After all, I have to be the Westley to your Buttercup!”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me as I left to go back to the office, my mood far lighter than I could’ve hoped it to be. I went back to work and was surprisingly able to finish what was due way earlier than I’d expected, hopping out of the Tower briefly to buy groceries and pick up yet more takeaway.

I wasn’t entirely surprised to find Loki in my apartment again. My contentment dipped, but didn’t entirely vanish, and I decided to make the best of the situation. Hopefully, we could get away with one day when he didn’t drive me nuts and I wasn’t reduced to a sorry mess. After all, last night had ended up being promising.

“Hello,” I said quietly. I went to the fridge and began restocking my fridge.

“Good evening,” he replied.

I could feel his eyes on me as I ambled about the kitchenette, pretending to be busier than I actually was. Once I was done, I put the food on a plate and reheated it in the microwave. When that was done, I settled on the same barstool as yesterday. I could sense that he wanted me to join him on the couch, but I didn’t acknowledge that and he didn’t say anything about it either. Finally, he got up and perched himself in the stool opposite me, behind the counter.

“I see you are still malnourishing yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired and don’t have the will to cook,” I said between bites. If my messy chewing offended him, he didn’t say anything. “Ooh, you said you were bored, right?”

He said nothing, instead choosing to glower at me with suspicion.

“Oh, come on, you can admit it,” I said. “It’s not a trick question. You must be sick of reading. Why don’t you try cooking?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Cooking?”

I pretended to not notice the disdain in his voice. “Yes, cooking.”

“I am a Prince of Asgard, heir to the throne Hldiskjalf that sits above the Nine Realms,” he declaimed, “and I will _not_ lower myself to do work that is meant for servants.”

“Boo, you…” I almost said and immediately glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth before the final word had slipped out.

I had almost gone ‘Boo, you whore’ a la Regina George, but I thanked my guardian angel for giving me the cognitive thinking skills the very last second. I shuddered to think what would have happened to me if I’d actually said that. I coughed manically to cover up my mistake and gulped down the glass of water, studiously avoiding Loki’s eyes all this while.

“Everyone should know how to cook,” I said diplomatically, once I had recovered.

“I only make merry – I do not make the feast.”

“Yes, but think of it this way: it’s a new skill. You’re bored. Heck, it’s a distraction. You can also combine reading with cooking by cooking whatever you read in a recipe book.”

“I bathe my hands in the blood of my enemies, not in pots of flour.”

It would’ve been an impressive statement had I not been used to impressive statements from him. As it stood, this was one of the least impressive things he had ever said.

“Anyway,” I sighed, deciding there was no point flogging that particular dead horse, “what’s up?”

“I saw you on that black screen – television – today.”

“How? You don’t have a TV in your apartment.” It had been for security purposes, for no one trusted Loki around any kind of technology – and rightfully so. 

“No,” he agreed. “Thor is very fascinated by Midgardian technology. He was watching Stark speak on his own handheld device when he noticed you. He rushed to me, saying that it was my duty to see what my PR is up to.” 

“Oh. That’s nice of him,” I managed.

He nodded. “Clearly, a PR does more than attend parties. What are your day-to-day responsibilities?”

I was so taken aback that I stopped chewing. I couldn’t help but be suspicious of this mild-mannered, inquisitive side of his. It was curious enough that he had acted this way yesterday, but to behave so two days in a row? What did he want?

“You should go tell Samantha Jones that PR isn’t all about parties,” I joked, trying to cover up my awkwardness.

He cocked his head in question.

“From Sex and the – oh, how would you know?” I chuckled. “Never mind. Well, I write news releases, I keep track of what reporters are saying about the Avengers, pitch stories, I do research on things and plan events.”

“What is a ‘news release?’”

I looked up to the roof, trying to put to words something that was so habitual to me and my profession. “It is the bread and butter of PR. It’s a written statement and it may have pictures that we send out to reporters – journalists, people who report the news – to inform them anything newsworthy. The trick is to write something that catches their attention and something that they can use as it is with minimal editing. Writing a good story well is a part of it, so is having a good relationship with the reporter. That makes it more likely for them to pay attention to what you’ve written.”

He nodded slowly, processing the information. “And, is that what you were doing today?”

“We were holding something called a press conference. Usually, the person or organisation involves makes a statement, then we take questions from the reporters. I helped organise the event and study the reporters who would be coming.The first three questions were scripted, meaning that some reporters had told us what questions they’d like to ask us beforehand and we’d prepared our responses accordingly. The next two were unscripted. I had to use my understanding of the reporters to select two of them who would ask questions that were best suited to our goals.”

“Why would you want questions at all? It is better to be unquestioned.”

That was the prince in him talking. “Well, if we engage in dialogue then we can create a good relationship. Reporters will be willing to listen to our side of the story and we can get a sense of what the public is thinking.”

“Your public should not dare to question the individuals it looks up to as its leaders – however fallacious that notion may be. Still, I accept things are done differently here.”

My lips twitched. It was almost… magnanimous of him. “How understanding of you,” I said, making sure he understood I was teasing him without trying to slight him.

He scoffed. “And, do you like your work?”

“Yes,” I said, startled. “Yes, of course.”

“Truly? Does this not get monotonous?”

“Well, I suppose it does at the grunt level. I mean, when you’re new. But, as you become more experienced, you get to create strategy rather than just dabble in tactics. You can create campaigns like, oh, I don’t know, for Christmas we could set up ten trees in the Tower and ask children from all around the world to send in decorations. Stuff like that. It’s creative. And even at my level, it requires writing and communicating and understanding people, which is always interesting.”

He was nodding thoughtfully. “You do seem to be not terribly incapable of speaking coherently to other people.”

“Thanks.” 

“But, is that all you want to do? Is your work the only passion you have in life?”

“No, of course not,” I said. Why was he taking such an interest in me? I could somewhat understand his interest in my work, for I imagined it was new to him, but why me? Perhaps it was in moments like these that I hated him the most, for I could almost believe that he cared, when it was a folly to believe so. “Why do you ask?”

“I am curious to know more of you. It is only fair given that you know much more about me than I know about you.”

Ah, so he was trying to gather information to use against me. Yet what use could he make of something so personal yet so innocent?

“Well,” I began. There was no harm in humouring him. “Let’s see. I want to travel all around the world. I love eating, so I want to be able to sample everything. Learn multiple languages. Have a house with a big library. Maybe get to spend my days doing nothing but reading – and eating and drinking, of course. Do some adventure sports. Hopefully go to the moon – and back – one day. Oh, and usher in the new year in every timezone at least once. Different places on Earth operate on different times. For example, the westernmost part of the States is around three hours behind us right now. Have a house full of dogs and cats. Learn how to play some instruments. Draw. Make a difference in someone’s life.”

I had rambled for far longer than I’d intended. I was surprised he hadn’t cut me off midway, mocking me for my naivety and unambitious dreams and desires. He didn’t even look bored. On the contrary, he had an odd smile on his face by the time I was done.

“Such enthusiasm for life you carry, Midgardian. And yet, it is only fair, for your life is extinguished almost as soon as you are born. How tedious it must be to be filled with so many hopes and desires, only to watch them slip by as you are caught in the rut of your life, of justifying your existence, shutting yourself off from the rest of the world till only you and your miseries and regrets remain.”

He was looking at his lap as he said this, his shoulders drooping as if some great burden weighed on them. I looked away, disturbed by the bleak turn our conversation had taken. Somehow, I felt, his words weren’t really directed at me. His interest and good mood confused me, but they were still preferable to this… solemnity. He was always regal and imposing, both in his manner and in his speech, yet he was such a force of nature that such moroseness, if that is what you could call it, did not suit him. It felt wrong from the God of Mischief. After how he had toyed with me, I would’ve thought that this stillness would be welcome. Yet, I didn’t wish for it to remain.  

“Would you like some ice cream?” I asked sweetly.

He chuckled bitterly. “Ice cream. Is that your solution to everything?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never heard of something or someone ending up worse than before after eating some.”

He chuckled again, this time without the bitterness. “Very well.”

“Let’s try chocolate and caramel today,” I suggested, but he paid no heed.

I was disappointed he wasn’t as invested in the ice cream as yesterday, but I tried to not think too much about it. Just like I did yesterday, I served the both of us some ice cream and quietly got down to savouring the flavour.

“How is your lip?” he asked suddenly.

“It is better, thanks,” I said, surprised.

He scowled, as if he was displeased it were so, but said nothing about it. After a few spoonfuls, he said, “This is not bad, though it does border on being too sweet.”

I was relieved to get a reaction from him. “Yeah, you can’t distinguish the caramel from the chocolate after a certain point.”

He nodded. “I want a second scoop of the chocolate chip cookie dough,” he said, after he’d finished his bowl.

I raised an eyebrow at his diktat, but didn’t get up. I could see he was getting a bit impatient, but I insisted on finishing my own dessert before fetching seconds for him. There was only a little left, so I gave it all to him.

“Here, eat it from the tub. That’s the way we do things on Earth.”

“Are you not eating?”

“There’s only enough for one person.” He looked unsure and I waved it off, “It’s okay. You like it, so have it.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d magicked me, because I would _never_ have given away the last of my ice cream to anyone, especially if they asked me if I was sure about my sacrifice. I fidgeted in my seat, irritated that he was monopolising my expensive fixation, but also strangely eager to watch him enjoy the ice cream the same way as yesterday. That desire, in turn, annoyed me even further.

The snootiness returned as he said, “Of course, it is only fitting that I should get the first pick on what I want.”

I rolled my eyes and settled into my seat again. Well, it was too late for regrets now. Just like last night, we had our second helpings in silence, and just like last night, he carried his dishes to the sink and went to the door.

But, before he left, he looked ever so slightly over his shoulder and said, “Good night, PR girl.”

This time, I managed to reply, “Good night, alien boy.”

I went to bed feeling oddly content for the first time in weeks, ever since that knifing episode. I deliberately chose not to ponder over his sudden interest in me, managing to focus on the work I needed to do tomorrow. That night, I had an odd dream. Perhaps it wasn’t as odd as the one involving frappucino, whipped cream and whipping, but it was odd in its own right. Loki and I were sitting on deck chairs in a sunny meadow, eating ice cream and laughing as if we had been friends for decades. He was narrating some crazy story, utterly carefree. I was devouring both the treat in my hands and the words and smiles of the man by my side hungrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So, thanks to xblood_kittenx, jessicagoddamnjones and BirdOfHermes for collectively helping me arrive to the absolutely crazy idea of Loki learning how to cook. I assure you, my thirst-buckets, by the time this fic ends (don't ask me when) Loki will have gone from "I am a Prince, I don't cook" to "Hey, darling, how was your day, look, I prepared a four course meal for you, I love you <3"
> 
> 2\. All the journalists in this story and most of the publications - except NYT and Washington Post, ofc - are canon in Marvel comics/MCU. 
> 
> 3\. I have written like 4 more chapters so your fix for next week and most of February is assured and I can't wait to share the next chapter with you because it's going to be a RideTM. There's going to be so much ShitTM going down and well, you will learn love, patience and pain all in one go. 
> 
> 4\. Thank you all for the support last chapter, I'm so glad each and everyone of you is still with this story and enjoying it. And, of course, feedback and constructive criticism are welcome, be it here or on my tumblr. Also, yeah, we're almost 100k words in, no kiss, this is gonna be helluva slow burn, deal with it, but I promise you, we're getting there. 
> 
> 5\. I prefer Boston over NYC personally. Sorry Daniel. Also, I have the weirdest faceclaim ever for Daniel. An unholy mash-up of David Tennant and Ed Skrein (I DON'T EVEN FIND ED SKREIN THAT ATTRACTIVE) but if you have better ideas, please let me know.


	22. That Time We Did Not have Sexual Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crisis escalates further - but there is also Loki to deal with. Read this on [ Tumblr. ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182303590652/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-22)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 14-19: Last Saturday.  
> Ch 20: Sunday and Monday.  
> Ch 21: Tuesday.  
> This chapter: First part (above the line) - Wednesday to Friday. Second part (below the line) - Saturday.
> 
> Okay so. You guys are probably going to hate me again. Sorry. If you think something about Loki sounds really sketchy and uncomfortable, then don't worry. Just keep reading. Remember, this is Reader/Scandal's narrative and told from her POV, but that doesn't mean she always knows the truth.

There was pin-drop silence as we watched one of the television screens showing a news segment from D.C.

“I’m here reporting live from I-695 where a major gun fight has erupted less than ten minutes ago,” a harried looking man was reporting. He was barely audible over the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the background. “A group of unidentified men opened fire on the highway. They are concentrating their fire on three individuals who have now been identified as Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and former United States Air Force pararescue Samuel Wilson, although multiple other casualties have been reported.”

“We’ve begun going through satellite and security footages,” said Curtis Salinas, the CTO, as he created a hologram version of the footage in question, “and we haven’t been able to identify any of the mercenaries. These men are armed with state of the art weapons. Rocket launchers, machine guns, sniper rifles, the works. Their leader seems to be a guy with a metal arm which carries a red star. We’re developing an algorithm as we speak to correlate this pattern, type of technology and weapons access to identify who could be behind this. There was another individual in the car with the trio,” he pulled up the image of a bald man. 

“Sitwell,” Clint said immediately. “Jasper Sitwell, a level-7 SHIELD employee. One of SHIELD’s top operatives,” he clarified for the rest of us who had little idea about espionage intrigue.

“Right,” Curtis said, “and look at this,” he played a video footage showing the man with the metal arm jump out of nowhere on the car carrying the three, rip apart the door, pull Sitwell out and fling him in front of a truck going in the opposite direction. A gasp ran through most of the attendees.

“ _Shit_ ,” Clint swore.

“What is it?” Tony asked, likely surprised at Clint’s reaction to something that must not be out-of-the-ordinary to him.

“Nat told me about him,” Clint said quietly. “I didn’t believe her, not fully, but looks like she was right.” 

“About _what_?” Tony asked, irritated.

“The assassin. The Winter Soldier, he’s called. Likely Soviet-origin. They say he’s committed over a dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So, he’s a guy going through a midlife crisis?” Tony quipped. “Must be really fit for an old man.”

“Sounds like someone else we know, eh?”

It took a moment for Tony to put together the pieces. “Are you saying he’s like Steve?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe he’s something different. We do know the serum used on Steve managed to end up in the hands of all sorts of people, so it isn’t unlikely. 

“So, he’s the Soviet version of Cap?”

“Just because he has a _likely_ Soviet origin doesn’t mean he works for them. It’s all a little too convenient. I’m willing to bet my entire ammo they were headed to the Triskelion and by the looks of it, Tash and Cap weren’t exactly being fussed about keeping themselves hidden. Sitwell had probably told them something that made them prioritise urgency over secrecy. And, this isn’t how an assassination usually goes – especially a Soviet one. No, it sounds like this was a desperate last-minute attempt to stop them from reaching the Triskelion. Question is, what could be so damning that the Winter Soldier’s handlers are willing to risk going so brazen and public?”

“Well,” said a woman, whom I recognised as Claire Houston, interrupted, “we have been constantly breaking through SHIELD’s firewalls and we found an anomaly. The arsenal stock inventory taken three months ago lists twenty-six short-range ballistic missiles. All SHIELD databases show no incident where such a missile was launched in the past three months. Yet, a random inspection conducted on Tuesday by an internal auditor logged twenty-five missiles. This is what we found.” She too pulled up a file, displaying maps and coordinates and numbers that I could never have hoped to understand.

Tony and Clint squinted at it. Then, the latter announced, “SHIELD fired it at Camp Lehigh on Sunday, 7:57 p.m. That’s where Cap got his enhancement. And that’s where we last received the signal from that level 6 encrypted file, which was taken from the Lemurian Star, which was Tash and Cap’s last mission with SHIELD.”

“Which, incidentally, also had Sitwell on it,” Tony declared, “And I’m willing to bet all my baby Iron Legionnaires on this, that SHIELD is the one behind the assassination.”

A nervous silence fell over us all. Stella cleared her throat. I looked to her, feeling marginally better, for I knew she would say something that would get us out of the woods safely. 

“Gentlemen, I have no experience in spycraft and domestic plots and intrigue, but as someone with twenty-five years’ experience in communication, I can tell you that, even if you were to be right – and that’s a big, fat ‘if’ – no one is going to believe you.”

“Yes, they will,” Tony said brusquely. “We are the Avengers.”

“The crossfire has ended,” Leslie said, looking up from her laptop, where she’d been following the news. “SHIELD’s STRIKE team has moved in and they’ve arrested Cap, Romanoff and Wilson.”

“There’s no sign of our metal-armed mercenary,” a techie spoke up, “and all the other gunmen are dead.”

“ _STRIKE_?” Clint stood up. “Why is STRIKE on this and not SOS? SOS is SHIELD Office of Security and deals with agents gone rogue. STRIKE is Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies. The Lemurian Star was an international crisis because it was in the Indian Ocean, but Fury and Sitwell are definitely not.”

“JARVIS, run facial recognition on the dead gunmen,” Tony ordered.

“I could find no record of them in any database, sir,” the AI replied.

“ _Regardless,_ ” Stella jumped in, “all these details sound absolutely crazy and no one is going to believe you, Tony, not when they already have a simpler and much more compelling story to believe: that the Avengers, whom a lot of people already perceive to be a major threat, have finally shown their true colours and killed Fury. Maybe, _just maybe_ , they might let Rogers off the hook, but Natasha? Natasha’s going to be dragged through the mud once SHIELD makes her entire history known. It’s going to be spun as beautiful, Russian femme fatale who has been a sleeper agent all this while seduces the infallibly righteous Captain America and convinces him to help her assassinate the Director. Tony, it’s time to cut your losses.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

“She means,” Clint interjected, “disassociate yourself from Tash and Cap. Strike them down as rotten apples and position yourself as a victim. Plead ignorance and cry about how everyone you trust has always betrayed you – or some other sob story like that, yeah?”

Stella glared coldly at Clint, but did not deign to respond to him. Instead, she said to Tony, “Tony, the Avengers Initiative is dead without Fury. Without him to support you and defend you, SHIELD was always going to crack down on you and Washington would not be far behind. You need to let go and get yourself and Dr. Banner out while you still can.”

There was another tense silence – which Tony broke by starting giggling. We all looked equal parts confused and worried that our boss had lost his sanity, as the giggling changed to hysterical laughter.

“Buddy?” Clint asked, unsure. “You okay?”

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Tony said between laughs.

“Who?” Clint asked. I could make out him subtly adopting the same defensive stance that he’d taught me. 

“Steve, of course.”

“Why?”

“God,” Tony exhaled, wiping away the tears of laughter from his eyes and hiccupping slightly, “That annoying, insufferable, holier-than-though, righteous ass!”

“Tony!” Clint said sharply. “Snap out of it!”

“You know what he said to me onboard the Helicarrier when we were dealing with Samara Morgan?”

“With _who_?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Loki, duh. Try and keep up, old man. Well, he said that I was the sort of guy who wouldn’t lie over a wire and let the other guy crawl over me, that I would always take a way out. And he was right, you know. I would’ve just cut the wire. But, this time, I can’t cut the wire. I’m going to do the exact sappy thing that that old man would do – I’m going to let him crawl over me. Wait,” he blinked, “that sounded wrong, but you know what I mean. So, the thing is, Stella,” he turned to look at her, “I’m not going to take a way out this time.”

“Tony,” she began carefully, but he interrupted her.

“I don’t need Lee Atwater and him calling out the bogeyman right now. I need _Stella Lee_. I need her unflinching loyalty to me and I need her to show my closest friends the same. Can you do that, Stella?”

She stared at him hard for a long time. Then, she slowly nodded, not meeting his eyes.

“Good,” he clapped his hands, “Now that that’s settled, what do you –”

“Boss?” Happy Hogan’s face appeared as a hologram. “Heads up, the Tower’s getting surrounded by the media and there are several helicopters flying above that are definitely not from any news channel.”

“Sir, I have identified the computer systems on five helicopters,” JARVIS piped up, “and they originate from SHIELD. Each helicopter is carrying ten operatives, heavily armed. I would not advise going up against them at the moment, for the civilian casualties will be high.”

“Besides, any provocation would give them an excuse to attack,” Clint said, “and will make us look even guiltier.”

“JARVIS, initiate lockdown,” Tony said.

“The Tower will be in full defensive mode within twelve minutes, sir.”

“Right, team. Nerds, keep monitoring SHIELD’s activity – including that of the personnel inside the Tower. Clint, just circulate between the techies and Happy to help with anything. Spin doctors, I guess we’ll be making another statement?”

Stella nodded. “Yes, but I want to wait to see if we can get some more information. And, Tony, please, do not do anything without consulting us, and do not pick a fight, okay?”

“I won’t,” he swore. “Well, you all have your tasks. Chop chop.”

We made a statement late in the day. It was short and sweet, not just because we didn’t want to end up screwed over legally, but also because we didn’t want to expose Tony to any potential threat for too long. He stepped outside the Tower, flanked by Happy and a dozen other bodyguards. As expected, the media went into a tizzy as soon as he stepped out. He drew the attention away from himself to SHIELD, asking how a group of highly armed mercenaries slipped into D.C. without SHIELD’s knowledge, why no one was investigating Sitwell’s death and why SHIELD was not looking into additional suspects for Fury’s assassination.

And that was that. We ducked back inside and resumed the same-old work. We also started getting hate calls from people across the world. I attended the calls all through Wednesday to Friday, which was when the lockdown was lifted. The immediacy of the crisis had passed and the crowds that had gathered outside the Tower throughout Wednesday and Thursday had finally dissipated. I managed to escape with Daniel for an early dinner and drinks, though thanks to my bone-deep exhaustion, all I could manage was a single drink and a grunt here and there for conversation. 

“Hey,” I said miserably as I entered my apartment.

“Mortal,” Loki said from his spot on the couch. “You have been away.” He looked supremely unhappy.

“Yeah,” I bit back the urge to say ‘sorry.’ “Been busy, you know. Lots to do.” I walked forward and collapsed on the couch next to him, forgetting that I had insisted on keeping as much distance between us as possible.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” I asked wearily.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“Already did.”

He said nothing.

“Can you move your legs a bit?” I asked. Manspreading didn’t quite cover it; he was sitting with less propriety than a whore. 

He stiffened and graciously moved his left leg about an inch towards the right. I sighed. It wasn’t worth an argument. 

“Has the crowd lost its zeal or did you mollify it?” He asked.

“The former.”

“So, what all did you work on these past few days?”

I groaned. “Can we not talk about work, please? My brain is in shutdown mode.”

“I was merely curious, given that you have always enjoyed talking about your work, but as you wish.”

“That was before I worked for forty out of fifty-five or so hours these past two and a half days.” 

“I suppose that _is_ arduous for mortals.”

“Yep.”

“Well, at least you have the weekend to look forward to.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. We’re hosting a lunch in Fury’s memory tomorrow. I have to get up early again to make sure everything’s in place for that, then there’s the actual lunch to take care of. And then, there’s the cleaning up to do. Maybe I’ll get a chance to sleep after that, but knowing my luck, I highly doubt it.”

“I suppose I should wear a black suit then, for that is what Midgardians wear during a sombre occasion, is it not?”

I frowned when I realised he thought he was going to attend the lunch as well. I looked out of the corner of my eye as I mumbled, “You’re not invited.”

“Ah,” he said, that single word dripping with so much bitterness and scorn.

“Sorry.”

“No, you are not.”

I shut my eyes. “Why do you even care? You’re happy he’s dead, aren’t you?”

“I will not say his death makes me sad. But, the man was doing what he had to do, as do we all.”

My eyes flew open. Since when had he become so calm and accepting, if not forgiving, so un-Loki-like? It was just as bizarre as his behaviour this entire week.

“Wow,” I mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am not in a patient mood tonight, girl. Tell me what you mean.”

If I had been a little less tired, I would have framed my thoughts more carefully. But, I was exhausted and had no strength to figure out and deal with Loki’s fragile sensibilities.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Like… are you alright? You’ve been so weird all week.”

“So, now you pick problems when I am trying to be courteous to you?” he scowled.

“No, no!”

“Then, why are you surprised?” he snapped.

I regretted opening my mouth in the first place, but there was no going back now. I might as well get it all out. “Loki, we’ve known each other for two months and you were nice to me for all of two hours on Saturday before you threatened me – yet again. So, yeah, colour me surprised.”

There was a pause. He looked oddly thoughtful and just as I felt that he had taken my words in the right spirit, he disabused me of that notion.

“Oh, of course. It is more convenient for you to hate me than keep an open mind. You act as if you are more sympathetic and understanding than anyone else around you, yet you are sickeningly parochial when the time comes.”

I didn’t have the energy or the inclination to tell him that I’d given him two chances, both on Saturday, both of which he had somehow or the other misused. I didn’t even have the energy to be offended for myself. All I felt, other than the extent of my tiredness, was something resembling hurt. I was strangely upset that this man who had been so… tender with me for the past week had reverted to being as bitter and unforgiving as the man last week.

“Can we not do this right now?” I said weakly.

“Am I to beg your indulgence before I can broach a matter with you? Has it not been enough that I have been waiting for the past two days, not having an idea when you will deign to return?”

I lost my patience. “I didn’t ask you to wait, nor did I ask you to come in the first place.”

His eyes turned into slits. “Do not forget, girl, you owe me your time.”

“I owe you _nothing_ beyond what you wrung out of me. Stop acting as if you’re my boyfriend or something. Not that even a boyfriend has the right to, mind,” I added, “but you are not even that so stop it.”

“Oh, is that it then?” he drew closer to me. “Is there someone whom you do owe your time to? Is it that simpleton boy you met at that party? Is that why you are not eating? Did he bring you food? Did he bring you your precious ice cream?”

I did not understand his obsession with Daniel. “What the fuck is it with you and Dan? What is your problem if he does anything for me? Why are you so pissed he is being nice to me? God knows he’s done more than you’ve ever done for me!”

“I am not obliged to do anything for you.”

“Yeah, well, what I do with him is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is, especially if you are giving him the time that you should be giving me. Or, wait. Perhaps you are spending your time with someone else,” he jeered, “is it your precious ‘Tony?’”

I recoiled away from him, jumping to my feet. So overwhelmed was I with shock and disgust at his insinuation that for a few seconds, I could not manage to speak. Finally, I managed a weak, “How dare you?”

He stood up as well. “How dare I? That man is a known philanderer – he even boasts of it. And you… you have been spending so much time working these past few days, have you not?”

“Why are you always so cruel and poisonous?” I whispered. “What have I ever done to you?” 

His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw. “Is it not true? Have you not been dallying with your Tony and your ‘Dan’ to shirk your duties to me?”

“Even if that were true, which it is not,” I said, blinking back tears of anger, “you have absolutely no right to look down upon me. And, more importantly, you have absolutely no right to expect anything more than civility from me. And that, by the way, is more than what you offered me when you were setting the terms on my first day of work. Now, get out.”

His eyes glinted dangerously and for a second I was worried he was going to strike me, but instead, a spiteful smile spread on his face. He took a mocking bow and said, “As my lady commands” and without any further word or gesture, left my apartment.

His words stung more than they should have. I should not have been surprised at his vitriol – after all, he was capable of far worse. But for some reason, it was the fact that he could feel such hatred for me, rather than the fact that he had made some disgusting accusations, that kept bothering me through the night.

* * *

I was welcoming the guests when my phone rang. I excused myself and picked it up, hoping that the world wasn’t going to go topsy turvy again. I wasn’t sure if I could handle another scare.

“Hello?” I said, taking the time to admire myself in a mirror to the side. I was dressed in all black, looking – and feeling – like I was dressed for a funeral. Still, despite my haggard appearance, I couldn’t help but think I looked chic for today’s lunch in my skirt-suit.

“Um, yeah, this is Agent Coleman.”

“Yes?” I asked wearily.

“Your client,” he said. “There’s someone in his room.”

I clutched my phone tighter. “What? How’s that possible?”

“The housekeeping woman slipped in to do her chores. She reported two voices instead of one.”

“WHAT?” I shrieked, before I remembered where I was. “How is this possible? How did this even happen?” Even as I asked that, I realised that I didn’t need to, for I already knew he had his magic.

“I… I’m not sure. Ma’am, you’d best get here quickly. It’s an urgent situation and I can’t keep talking to you on an open comms line.”

Before he had even finished his sentence, I was racing out of the living room, barefoot and shoes in hand, for there was no way I could run as fast as I wanted in my heels. I reached just in time to see the door to Loki’s apartment opening.

“Shut the door!” I bellowed, but it was too late.

Out emerged Mary Langley.

We stared at each other in bewilderment for a few seconds before my wits returned.

“Mary?” I said, sounding as calm on the outside as I definitely did not feel on the inside.

“Hey,” she replied. I doubted she knew my name.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing, really,” she said awkwardly. She began taking in the agents flanking her and bewilderment etched itself upon her dainty features.

“I see.” Then, unable to keep up the charade of being casual anymore, I blurted, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, noting my panic. “Why would I not be?”

“I- I don’t know. Are you sure you’re fine?” 

It didn’t take too long for the pieces to click together. I remembered she had handed him her contact details, a clear invitation to take things further, and now she was emerging out of his room. I was worried. I was worried about what Loki had done to her – what he could have made her do. I was worried she was acting this calm only as a line of defense, or because she was scared, or worse, she did not remember.

“Yes, I am. Are _you_ okay? You look more jittery than usual.”

“Mary, if you want to talk to someone, I can call them for you. I promise, if there’s anything you need, you need only ask.”

I would gladly end up dead but I’d be damned if I was going to let Loki get away with whatever he’d done to her. I would rather resign and face the consequences than try to explain away this misdeed.

She narrowed her eyes. “I told you, and I’m telling you this for the last time, _I am fine_. Now, will you please let me pass? It’s awkward enough as it is running into you while I’m coming out of your boss’ apartment, and I have actual work to do. See you at the lunch.”

Without another word, she marched down the corridor past me and stepped into the elevator. I stared after her, bewildered, before quickly remembering myself.

“Track her,” I ordered one of the SHIELD agents. “If she says or does anything fishy, take her to Stella Lee in the communication office.”

One of the agents nodded and began his pursuit. I too needed to go see Stella, but before that, I had to make another conversation. I focused on the soft pad of my footsteps as I made my way to Loki’s lair.

“I heard a commotion outside,” he drawled, sauntering up to me, looking extremely pleased with himself. Mercifully, he was fully dressed in casual Earth wear. “Is everything alright?”

A strange pang of an emotion other than worry hit me. I tried to stop my eyes from darting towards the bedroom, but failed. He grin widened. I could have asked him how, why or when she managed to get in, but those were futile. 

“What did you do?” I asked instead.

“Oh, I merely invited her for the night,” he answered in that infuriating pleasant way of his. “Such a lovely woman.”

My voice broke as I asked, “Did you hurt her?”

“Hurt her? Of course not. Why would I hurt such a delightful creature?”

“Did you mind-control her?”

His pleasant demeanour flickered. “No. Unless, of course, you think being thoroughly charmed by me is equivalent to mind-control.”

“Did you tell her who you are?”

“Of course not, though even if I had, she would not have believed me. As it stands, she still thinks me to be Lucas Hilmarsson, the Icelandic savant.”

“Did you use any –” I was going to ask him if he’d used any magic on her, before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to know and that there was no guarantee someone wasn’t watching, or wasn’t going to watch, this recording of our conversation. I hurriedly thought of something else to ask. “Did you use any protection?” I cringed.

“Protection?” he repeated blankly.

“Condoms!” I screeched, mortified I had to be asking this, and mortified even further when he still didn’t understand what I’d said. “God, what if she’s pregnant? What if she has some alien AIDS now?”

He stared at me for long to my chagrin and astonishment, he started laughing. He laughed harder than I had ever seen him laugh.

I gaped at him. “You sick fuck! You think this is funny?”

Still in the throes of laughter, he held out his hands, palms outward, and managed to gasp out, “Yes, I do, but things are not what they seem like.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what are they like?” I screeched.

“If you would only relax, I will explain everything.”

“No! You’re the last person I need an explanation from right now! _Shit!_ ” I clutched my hair. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re going to be in? How the hell are you going to explain –” But I caught myself in time, for I realised that anything I said was likely being recorded and could be used as evidence that I knew how Loki had smuggled Mary in. 

If I wasn’t careful about what I said and did from this point onwards, I was going to end up in prison, or worse. I had absolutely no desire to do anything for Loki anymore, but I had to save myself. It was time to cut my losses, as Stella put it.

“Look, I need to go and deal with a lot of other stuff right now, okay?” I said. “Please, please, _please_ do not leave your apartment and get up to any shenanigans, okay? I beg you, please!”

Before he could say or do anything, I flew out of his apartment, furiously strategising. I needed to inform Stella and Tony. I needed to pretend that I had no idea Loki had his magic. I needed to cry and wail in front of Tony. Loki was unpredictable, I needed to say, volatile; he could not be trusted. It was for the public good if he was returned to Asgard. I needed to make Tony realise that his endeavour to reform Loki’s image was a waste and that nothing good was going to come out of this and there was no point in having me anymore. I needed Tony to fire me, so that I could be free from all this shit without quitting myself.

I had barely made any headway down to the elevator when Loki appeared in front of me. I was alarmed, but I kept walking, believing it was an illusion, but it was the real deal. I barged into him, a startled huff escaping me at the impact. He grabbed my arm and pulled me even closer against him. He brought his face next to mine to whisper in my ear. 

“If you scream or do or say anything right now, it will constitute as revealing the secret of my powers and that will constitute as breaking our deal. Do you understand?”

I did. The SHIELD agents were close by, but Loki would be done with me in less than half a second before they got here. My freedom was within reach; I could play this game a little longer. I swallowed and nodded once.

“Good girl,” he rumbled. “Let us go to your chambers. Oh, and, put on your shoes. You look ridiculous wandering around barefoot in your formal attire.”

I hadn’t even realised I was still carrying my shoes. He stepped away from me and I put my shoes back on. We made our way to my apartment, him standing and walking a few inches behind me. It was an eerie echo of how things had gone when I had found out about his magic and he had apprehended me on Tony’s office’s floor on Saturday.

As soon as we entered, I began, the stony composure slipping. “What is it going to be this time? Are you – are you going to do the same to me what you did to her? To Mary?”

“If you mean talk her to death, then no.”

I bristled. “We both know that is not what you did with her!”

“Oh?” he asked archly. “Tell me, darling, what _did_ I do with her?”

“I don’t care what you did with her! Did you do it against her will, yes or no?”

He laughed bitterly. “Do you truly think I am capable of such monstrosity?”

“Yes or no, Loki.”

“Oh, of course you do. You cannot even bear to stand in my company.”

“Yes or no, Loki!” I screamed.

“No!” he bellowed. “No, I did not!”

I didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. You would never believe me.”

His self-pity grated on my nerves. “You’re right, I won’t. I could defend you for what you did on Earth. I could maybe even forgive you for what you have done to all of us. But I will not, I absolutely will not, defend _this_. Kill me, hurt me, whatever. I don’t care. But I won’t let you get away with this,” I finished as tears blurred my vision.

“What you need to do right now is listen to me,” he insisted.

“No! I am _done_ listening to you. I am going to find Tony and I’m going to tell him exactly what’s happened!” I cried, but there was no leaving the apartment, for he was standing right in front of the door. “Get out of my way!”

He took in a deep breath and grazed my shoulders with his fingers. “Listen to me,” he said, with a soft exhalation of my name. “Listen to me just this once. I did not sleep with her,” he said softly.

I jumped out of his reach. “I don’t believe you!” I snarled again.

“I swear to you,” he said in the same measured tone, “if you choose not to believe me on anything, then believe me on this: I would never commit something so heinous.”

“How can you expect me to believe anything you say? You’re the guy who said that humans were made to be ruled and subjugated. You mind-controlled dozens of people and made them do things they would never do. You have humiliated us, you have called us primitive and dull and worthless and you have said time and again just how little we matter!”

He swallowed. “I do not deny any of that. Even so, I would never commit an action so base. This I swear on Frigga, my mother, and if you do not believe me, then ask Thor. He would attest to how much she means to me, despite all my crimes.”

I gulped. “I honestly don’t care. There’s nothing more to do. It’s over. We’re done. I’m going to tell Tony everything that has happened –”

“– _Nothing_ has happened, will you please for once just –”

“– and tell him you are too unpredictable and unable to change and there’s no need for a PR for you anymore. And before you ask,” I continued bitterly, “ _no_ , I will not resign and _no_ , I will not sleep with Tony to convince him to fire me.”

He stiffened. “I should not have said that. It was unbecoming.”

I blinked, surprised that he had said that. “Damn straight.”

“I never thought you did. I just said it to hurt you. I know how loyal he is to Virginia despite his words and I know you would never do such a thing.”

I was positively amazed by now. This was a complete U-turn to his attitude last night. I didn’t let myself be swayed by it; it was clear he was saying this just to win me over. 

“Yep, I wouldn’t.” 

He sighed. “I will do whatever it takes to convince Stark otherwise.”

“God, you’re a special kind of delusional,” I whispered. “You think he is going to listen to anything you have to say after I tell him about Mary? And even if you did nothing – which I do not believe for one second, but sure, let’s indulge you – do you really think he won’t find out about it?”

“Oh, I can be very persuasive when I want to be. I will convince him, but most importantly, little one,” he said, taking a step towards me, “I will convince you.”

“This is all just a game to you, isn’t it?” I said, refusing to flinch away from him this time. “Are you doing this because you don’t want to lose? Or, because of what you’d said about appearing worthy of being king?”

“Both. Both. And, because I am telling the truth.”

I snorted.

“But, also because…” he continued, then took in a deep breath as if saying the next few words would hurt him, “I do not want to lose my only other companion here.”

Before my brain could even process that I should be shocked, he went on.

“You had come late to my chambers the day of the lunch. I was… embarrassingly relieved when you finally came, for it meant you were still here. Then, the two weeks after that lunch when you did not come, I thought you had left for good. I was ashamed of how I had lost control, ashamed of how I had acted as the monster they all called me and I was ashamed of how I had got used to the sight of you sitting across me, engrossed in your book. When you returned, I was relieved and like I told you, I was dismayed at the lengths you were going to to do your work – but I was also angry at this softness you brought in me.

“So, I did what I could do best: I taunted you and I humiliated you, confident you would still be here. That was where I was wrong, for you did exactly what I had hoped you would not: you left. I had thought that if you could stay even after all I had done, you would never leave. But, you did leave – and you left so easily, as if discarding me was the easiest thing in the world for you. I could not let you walk away because neither my pride allowed it nor my mind. I voiced the genuine regret I felt for my actions, but of course, I was angry I had to do so. I wanted to reassert myself, so I decided I would trap you so that you would not leave even if you wanted to.

“I thought everything would be fine. You were understandably upset, but I was confident you would come around. I would make you come around. The Fury incident inconveniently diverted your attention, but I decided to make the best of it. It was yesterday when I was hit by the unpleasant realisation that though you are tied to me, your life, and even your work, do not revolve around me. I loathed you for it. I loathed you for your ability to come and go as you pleased while I had to wait and sit in silence all day long and then scrape some of your attention for myself. I loathed you for how you had the choice to walk away and I did not. I loathed that there was always someone who could command your attention more than I could.

“So, I told myself again that I needed no one, that you were insignificant and replaceable. I told myself that it has been two years and that if a mortal could move on two weeks after near-death, then I, a god, could as well. So, I called Mary to rid myself of any imagined dependence on you, but I could not do it. I could not touch her or let myself be touched by her. I could not even bear to kiss her. It was too much – the contact, the intimacy. I was not able to reconcile to it. 

“A few years ago I would not have admitted this to anyone, but today, I will take a page out of your book; you, who so fearlessly admitted that she was scared and scarred. I thought that I had recovered from the tortures I underwent before coming to Midgard, but I admit – I have not. I fear connection just as much as I crave it. I want to avoid and push you away, Midgardian, just as much as I want to seek you out for your oddities.”

I was breathing heavily by the time he finished, floored by both his words and his sentiment. I had never imagined that I had made such a strong mark on the life of a god who was going to outlive me by millennia. I had never realised I and my presence or absence had occupied so much of his mind. I remembered he had been pacing up and down that day when I’d come to take him out for the lunch, but I would never have thought it was because he was anxious that I’d gone. I would never have thought that he was capable of such complexity and emotion and sentiment – especially towards me.

It was touching and yet, _yet_. I couldn’t cave in. I had to stay strong and be logical. However much he may mean what he was saying and regret what he did, there was no guarantee things would change. Even if they did, most likely, it was too late. Even if it was not too late, I couldn’t go back. I’d taken a beating too many times and I was tired.

“Loki,” I said softly, “please… just… I can’t. It’s too late. Thank you for saying all this, but it doesn’t change anything.”

He grimaced as if he had swallowed something bitter. Then, almost too quickly for my ears to catch, he said, “I apologise.”

“What?” I said, barely audible.

He brushed his fingers against mine and I tried to not flinch. He whispered my name and continued, “For endangering your life, for the threats, the taunts, the humiliation, for trying to hurt you by making accusations about you and Stark. For everything.”

A week ago, I would have thought that his apology would set everything right. It would be the balm on my fractured ego and tired mind. Yet now that it had actually come to fruition, I wanted to run away and hide. It was that confusing feeling when you finally got something bittersweet that you had coveted since long, but now that you had got it, you didn’t know what to do with it, or if it was truly what you wanted.

“I – I’m sorry,” I stuttered, walking backwards in search for the door that I’d forgotten was in front of me, “I have to go. The lunch – people – Stella – they need my help – the catering –”

That was when the attack happened.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Reader/Scandal: 5; Loki: 5 (they're equal again!)
> 
> 2\. I'm sorry I lied to you two weeks ago, xblood-kittenx, when you asked me if there's going to be any more Mary. I didn't want to reveal that yes, there was *definitely* going to be a lot more Mary.
> 
> 3\. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, both here and on my Tumblr.
> 
> 4\. Thank you so much to shinigami for creating this amazing and beautiful [ mooboard/aesthetic ](https://timetravellingshinigami.tumblr.com/post/182297137316/loki-and-scandal-aestheticmoodboard-for-a-job) for Loki and Scandal's relationship. It is PERFECT and thank you so much for creating something so lovely for my fic. I'm just completely floored with love and happiness. It has been a long week - uni has begun again, I've been figuring out my schedule, missing home and grappling with jet lag - and honestly, this made up for all of it. Thank you so much.


	23. That Time We Suffered an Occupational Hazard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to keep yourself safe amidst the attack. Read this on [ Tumblr](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182481742717/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-23).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 20 - Sunday to Monday  
> Ch 21 - Tuesday  
> Ch 22 - Wednesday to Saturday  
> This chapter - Saturday
> 
> PS: I've added a warning for Graphic Depiction of Violence. I'm not sure if the violence in this chapter warrants a warning, but better safe than sorry.

The explosion came from high above and though it was too far away to have any impact, the sound reverberated through the walls dully. Loki marched to the glass wall behind the couch. I followed him, unsure of what he was trying to see.

“The explosion does not seem to originate from one of Stark’s experiments gone wrong,” he said. “I would say it comes from the roof.”

I forced my brain to snap out of a daze. “The helipad!”

“Someone has blown up the Tower’s Quinjet. But, why? The Avengers would not escape and leave the Tower defenseless until they had rescued everyone they could.”

“What if it is to cut off the civilians’ escape?” I said, before coming to the horrifying conclusion that my brain had possibly known but refused to accept: we were under attack.

“It is sizeable,” he said, then walked away from the wall towards the door, “but not efficient enough to transport all the people in the Tower to safety quickly, especially now that you have, what, around a hundred guests?”

“Three hundred and fifty,” I whispered. “Oh, god,” I uttered, overwhelmed.

“It is a distraction,” he declared. How could he be so calm and collected, as if this were an everyday occurrence? “But, it is not distraction enough.”

He marched back to the wall, looking below this time.

“What?” I asked, hopping on one foot then the other.

Thoughts were racing mile a minute, all of them jumbled and running into each other. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember the crisis plan for an attack on the Tower. I couldn’t even decide what I wanted to do: flee, hide or help.

“There are people running in the streets. It would only make sense to use an attack on the city as another distraction.”

“What? How could you even say that?”

“Reign your wolves, I am only thinking as the enemy would.”

“And who is the enemy?” I asked shakily. I wanted to shut my mouth but the panic had seized control of my tongue and the words came even as they shamed me. “Is it you? Are you behind this?”

He rounded on me, eyes blazing. “You have done what men and women far greater than you have not been able to do: prove me wrong. I had thought you had more mettle, but you are just like the rest of your race: cowering and susceptible to your fear.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, without bite.

The man had just presented me with the most eloquent apology I had ever received and confessed that he sought my company. I wasn’t buying his familiar tactic of putting me down – and I was determined to think twice about putting him down myself as well. He said no more and turned his attention back to the street. I danced around the entrance, cursing myself for my ineptitude and then cursing myself for cursing myself instead of getting my head straight.

He whipped around again. I expected another tongue lashing, but this time, I saw a strange uncertainty on his face.

“The AI. JARVIS,” he said. “Is it not supposed to alert the inhabitants about a situation and give them orders to evacuate?”

My eyes widened as the flustered heat in my body turned into chilling despair. “JARVIS?” I called out. “This is an emergency. Connect me to Stella Lee.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that, ma’am,” the AI’s voice came through haltingly.

“Emergency Protocol 111.”

“My protocols have been overridden.” There was static and then there was no more.

“JARVIS? JARVIS!” I cried, but there was no answer.

I looked at Loki, panting. He was watching me. He had put on that familiar mask of impassivity and that exponentially increased my dread, for I sensed he had done this because he was as worried as me.

“Loki,” I whispered, “this is bad. This is very, very bad. JARVIS runs not just the Tower but Tony’s suit. If something’s gone wrong…” I trailed off, unable to voice that thought.

“The arc reactor operates independently of the AI and it will be cumbersome to shut it down. That may be the only thing we can use to our advantage now, if at all. I will go up and gather information,” he declared suddenly and crossed the span of my apartment once more.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“No,” he said firmly, “you will stay right here till I come down to fetch you.”

“What? No!”

“Yes. You have nothing to offer in any conflict and you will only be a hindrance. Hide beneath your bed and do not open the door to anyone.”

“That’s not for you to decide, I want to help! And even if I can’t help, I need to escape!” I said and moved towards the door.

He pulled me by the shoulder and slammed me against the wall. I yelped in pain and raised my hand across my body to tug off his grasp, but it was to no avail. He growled my name and brought his face merely an inch or so away from mine, green eyes boring into me. A shudder ran through me and I tried to dislodge his hand, but all I could manage was to persuade him to ease his hold.

“Listen to me,” he said in that same low growl. “These people are being extremely thorough in their attack. They know the Tower’s weak points and they have disabled Stark’s greatest ally. They are not frolicking about – and neither can we. I _must_ conserve my seiðr and I cannot do that if I have to shield you as well. I will assess the situation, retrieve you and we will go to my chambers. The AI may have controlled the access, but the arc reactor still powers the defenses and I would say my apartment would be one of the more secure points in this tower right now.”

His proximity was terrifying as it was, but his words were only driving home the sheer hopelessness of the situation. I was shaking with the effort of not breaking down – it wasn’t going to solve anything and even in this crisis. Something in my face must have displeased him, for he gave me a light shake.

“If I have to strip your bedding and restrain you with it, then I will do it. If I have to break your leg to make you stay here, then I _will_ do it, doubt me not.”

I wanted to run away, but he would have probably interpreted that as rebellion and I had no desire to be so thoroughly and painfully incapacitated. I nodded jerkily.

“I won’t. I won’t. I promise.”

He stared hard at me and then leaned in even closer. I shut my eyes out of reflex, focusing on controlling my breathing, but all I could focus on was his. He leaned back, almost making me miss his proximity. It was only after I heard the soft shutting of the door that I opened my eyes.

I don’t know how long I waited. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. I alternated between standing by the door and looking through the glass. Both were equally distressing. At times I paced like a woman possessed and at other times, I sank to the floor, knees to my chest, trembling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but I wouldn’t let myself, because if I started now, I wasn’t going to be able to stop. I needed to stay as cool as possible if I wanted to have even the slightest chance of staying alive. The fact that the odds were completely against me was something that kept going through my mind, but every time I started lingering on it, I slapped my thigh to distract myself. I could not afford such despair.

As time went on and fear started being exacerbated by the mounting uncertainty, I became restless. I needed to move. I needed to find out what to do because for all I knew, I was at as much risk dying hidden away in my bedroom as I was in a confrontation. Loki would be livid – but Loki should have been back by now, shouldn’t he?

 _That is, if he_ had _any plans of coming back in the first place_ , my mind taunted.

This thought, however, I couldn’t dismiss. Yes, Loki had practically admitted to liking me and no, I didn’t believe that he was behind this attack, but what guarantee did I have that he was going to rescue me? Or, that he wasn’t going to use me as a barter chip any time, even if he did rescue me? I couldn’t imagine I would fetch a good ransom, but I could be bait or a guinea pig. No, I couldn’t trust him any more than I could trust anyone else right now. I checked my phone. There was no signal. I tried making an emergency call, but the call wouldn’t go through. If the attackers had disabled JARVIS, then it was not surprising they were blocking all signals around the Tower. With a final sigh of defeat, I got up and went to my bedroom. I put on my sneakers, because my black heels were simply not going to cut it and going barefoot sounded hardly any better. Pushing through the last vestige of doubt, I opened the door and exited.

There was pin-drop silence. Most likely, all occupants who had been enjoying a lazy Saturday had run off somewhere. I prayed they had made it. I didn’t dare to knock on any of my neighbours’ doors for fear that it would attract unwelcome notice. There was no point in taking the elevator for it would likely not be functioning, and even if it was, using it might attract attention. I walked towards the stairwell, jumping at every little noise, imagined or not, and constantly looking over my shoulder. I pushed the door open, almost breaking down in fear that someone had heard me, then quickly stepped through.

There were blood splatters on the white walls and bodies on the floor.

I almost gasped before I managed to quieten myself. I scrunched my eyes shut, furiously shaking my head, trying to rid myself of that image, but I couldn’t displace the coppery smell in the air. I sank to the ground and crawled to towards the railing, kicking in a frenzy when my limbs accidentally brushed against what felt like a body. I heaved myself to the railing and looked below, willing myself to focus. Dull shouts and cries, and what sounded like gunshots, were echoing through the stairwell. I leaned further forward, pretending that it was water making the railing slippery. More bodies were lined up on the staircases below.

A bang echoed through the stairwell. I looked over my shoulder in terror, but there was no one. Footsteps ran and I could vaguely make out the figure of someone running. Another bang, likely the door opening on one of the lower levels. More footsteps, then a gunshot. A woman screamed and then silence. I shrank away, afraid the shooter was going to look up and notice me. Heavy footsteps thudded and I crawled backwards, expecting the shooter to run up and find me, but the sound became more and more muted as the seconds passed, till another banging of the door sounded on a level far below.

They were picking off survivors.

Going up was the only way. I didn’t know what good it would do me or what escape I was likely to make from high above, but I didn’t have a choice. If a few more minutes of delaying the inevitable was what I could get, then so be it. I pulled myself up and began making my way. My eyes fell shut whenever I saw more blood or another body and I had to force them open. Every time a noise occurred or the drag of my feet sounded louder, every time my hand came down on the railing a little too hard or my panting seemed to stand out more, I braced myself.

By the time I’d climbed up ten floors, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I stumbled forward blindly, hating myself for not being clever or quick or strong enough. That I was still alive was only thanks to dumb luck – and Loki. At the thought of Loki, my tears flowed harder. He had apologised to me, but what was it worth now that I was closer to death than I’d ever been – closer, even perhaps, than when he’d threatened to slash my throat. Thor and Tony had been there then – and Robson. Where were they now? Why weren’t they here? Where were Clint or even Dr. Banner? Where were Cap and Natasha? Were they still under SHIELD imprisonment? Did they know what was happening here?

I was profusely sweating by the time I’d finished climbing up around thirty floors. I was at the penthouse levels by now. I crumpled next to the locked door in front of a stairwell, using the need to strategise as an excuse to rest a bit. Usually, I needed to enter my access codes to go up the stairwell to the upper ten levels, but since JARVIS was out of commission, I could just barge through. _Should_ I go up, though? I wanted to believe that the living room was empty by now, but I had no way to be sure. Perhaps, I could go to Loki’s room, as he had suggested. He may not have had any intention of bringing me to safety, but he could be right about it being one of the more secure rooms right now. It was also in the Avengers’ living quarters and I doubted anyone would have stopped to hide – or check – there. The Avengers were supposed to be under arrest or saving the Tower. There was no way anyone would be – or would think of – hiding here, right? I was clutching at straws and leaping to conclusions, but I saw nothing else to do.

I stood up and climbed up the final staircase. Tentatively, I pulled open the exit door, expecting to be discovered as soon as the handle bent, but I was in luck – for now. I emerged in a corridor where I’d never been before. I walked a little to the right, where the natural light seemed to be streaming from. It ended a little behind a granite slab. I looked around and realised that I was in the common area shared by Thor and Loki. It was decorated in what I had presumed to be Asgardian fashion, but I had no time to appreciate the décor today, for I heard several voices.

I hid behind the slab and turned to look from the side. Loki was at the other end of the room. To my horror, he was surrounded by several of the attackers, but they looked as if they were merely making sure he didn’t escape. I couldn’t see well from my vantage point, but he appeared unhurt. The elevator opened and another squad of heavily armed men emerged. They stopped opposite to Loki.

“Do you know why you’re here?” one of the men, presumably the leader, spoke. His raspy voice was strangely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Not because I am burdened with glorious purpose,” Loki said. “I believe those days of mine are over.”

“Not true. In fact, they’re here. You get to have a new glorious purpose now.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Killing the Avengers.”

“And why should I do your dirty work for you?” Loki asked, amused.

“Don’t you want your revenge?”

“And what do you want, Agent? What do you want in return for letting me exact my vengeance?”

The man was silent.

Loki went on, “Oh, I know. You want me to kill them because you would not be able to.”

The man remained silent, this time, perhaps, because Loki had figured out his game. After a while he said, “Hardly as if _you_ were able to do it in the first place. Or have you conveniently forgotten how badly you fucked up?”

 _Why_ was the Agent’s voice so familiar? Where had I heard it before?

I couldn’t see Loki’s reaction, but I could hear the sourness in his voice as he said, “Yet still you come to me. Why? Does your mutinous faction of SHIELD still owe the Avengers some loyalty?”

“Of course not. And, we are not SHIELD. We are HYDRA.”

_HYDRA?_

_What?_

I must be going mad, for this was as fantastical as the mad theories on YouTube that Hitler was still alive and kicking. I pressed myself closer against the slab and listened.

“Of course. Remind me what your principles are – that is, if you have any?” Loki said.

“A new world order. Security – in exchange for freedom. Straight up your alley, eh? But unlike you, we do not plan to take freedom – we plan to accept its surrender.”

“So this is your plan. A world where the Avengers are not there to protect freedom, where that same freedom can be bartered for order. An order born out of chaos – and I _am_ the chaos. Or at least, some of it. I will not be so rude as to take away all the credit from you.”

“What is it going to be, Asgardian? Time’s ticking and we’ve got no time for babysitting.”

“And what is to be my reward for doing your dirty work?”

“ _Your_ freedom.”

“Oh,” Loki said and I could hear the grin in his voice, “but is that not exactly what you want to uproot?”

“You are not of Earth, so your freedom is not ours to take.”

“Do not insult my capabilities, Agent. I do not need your help to be free, but you need mine. You can make me a better offer.”

The man ruminated over his words before saying, “You could lead us. You could bring us knowledge that we never even have hoped to possess. You could be the god you were meant to be.”

There was a long pause. The man hadn’t sounded convincing at all and I was expecting Loki to call him out on it.

Then, he laughed. “Very well. I accept your most gracious offer.” My heart’s frantic pounding renewed as the horrific realisation dawned on me – he was going to betray us. But he wasn’t finished. “But, before I can be of any use, you need to find a way to free me of the bindings on my powers.”

“We have technology that could work, failing which we can lure your brother in. I hope you’re a better actor than a prisoner.”

Loki laughed again. “And I hope you are better at keeping promises than you are an ally. Show yourself, soldier. I would know whom I am making a bargain with.”

My heart beat faster. I craned my neck, risking life and limb, to get a glimpse of who the commander was. The man hesitated for some reason, before nodding and moving his hands to his head. He unclasped the buckles and slowly lifted off the bulky helmet. Sandy hair sprang free and I held my breath as I pieced together who the man was.

Agent Robson.

A choked sob escaped me all too loudly in the temporary silence of the room. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Some of the men whipped their heads around, frantically searching for the source of the noise. I drew back even further into myself, but I knew it was a lost cause. I clutched my phone and checked it as a last desperate measure.

The signal was back.

Frantically, I went through my contacts, trying to find Tony’s number. I called and it was ringing, but no one was picking up. I barely heard Robson’s hoarse command of, “Do not shoot at sight if it is a civilian.”

The men had begun going around the room and it was only a matter of time before they found me. Just when I had given up on trying to reach Tony, my arm was yanked from behind and I was dragged away from my hiding spot. I screamed and wailed and kicked as the man pulled me out front, but to no avail. Before I knew it, we were standing with the rest of the party.

“HOW DARE YOU?” I screamed, looking back and forth so quickly between Loki and Robson that my head started hurting. “HOW DARE YOU BOTH?”

Loki was glaring at me, but Robson looked at me impassively. I dissolved into bitter sobs. Loki’s apology had meant _nothing_. Robson’s promises to keep me safe had meant _nothing_.

“She was trying to make a call,” said the brute holding me, whom I recognised as Agent Coleman, the man who had stood guard outside Loki’s door and called me earlier today.

“It doesn’t matter,” Robson said quietly, “we have to leave soon anyway.”

I didn’t know and I didn’t care what Loki was doing, but I focused my attention on Robson. “I trusted you! We all trusted you!” I shrieked.

Another man who used to guard Loki held up a screen in front of me. Light emerged over my face and I looked away. Coleman seized my jaw and forced me to look into the light.

“This is a waste of time,” another man grumbled. “We should just kill her and be done with it. What does it matter if one person dies when twenty million were already supposed to die?”

Robson’s impassivity broke. “Well, they didn’t, so shut the fuck up and let Zola’s Algorithm run. If her face pops up, you can be the one to kill her.”

I sobbed harder. I couldn’t turn my head, but I could stare somewhere else. Loki was trying to catch my eye, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want him to be the last person I saw before I died. Robson was avoiding my eye – not that he was who I wanted to see either. As the seconds ticked and that software ran and scanned my face, I desperately tried to think of my family and friends. They would probably never know now that I’d been doing PR for Loki of Asgard.

The light turned off and my breath hitched. I wasn’t sure if the scanning was over, but I realised no one was looking at the scanner. There was a strange pause, before the glass wall behind me shattered.

Coleman let go of me and turned around. A roar of pure rage sounded through the floor and in came flying out of nowhere the Hulk. He stomped on the SHIELD – HYDRA – agents closest to him, crushing them to death immediately. Below his foot, the floor crumbled, but he leapt off again towards Loki and Robson, who were frantically making their retreat. The Hulk’s stomps sent a shockwave through the floor and I collapsed. The hole in the floor was widening and I slid towards it. Loki had turned his head, his eyes whipping around manically in search for something. His eyes widened when they noticed me, but before I could even take in what was happening or reach out for help, I went falling through the hole down to the floor below, screaming.

Upon impact, I blacked out.

I don’t know how long I was out. All I was aware of was pain unlike I had ever known throughout my body. There was someone whimpering very loudly close by. They sounded as if they were in as much pain as me. I tried looking about, my breathing becoming heavier as I exerted myself. The whimpering became much breathier as well. I groaned, trying to get rid of the ringing noise in my head. It was only when another groan echoed through the room that I realised the whimpering person was me.

I lay still for a few minutes, unable to do much else. The noise decreased. Most of the pain was originating from the left side of my body. I turned my head slowly and almost wished I hadn’t. The way my left arm was twisted was grotesque enough, but right next to me lay a bloody mess of flesh and bone that was covered in something black. Stringy fragments of the same pulpy material were spread out. I vaguely realised they were organs. It was a body, I thought dazedly. The blood was still flowing and pooling on the floor. It had drenched my clothes by now.

It was the body of one of the HYDRA thugs that the Hulk had stomped on.

I turned over to my right and retched. I retched again every time my brain revisted that image and tried to morbidly analyse what bone or organ it was. Once no more would come up, I dragged my body using my right arm and leg away from the bile and the dead man. The ringing was gone now. My head still hurt, but there was nothing to be done about it. I lifted my hand to to check if there was blood. Mercifully, my hand came clean.

I must have fallen through to the floor of Tony’s office. The surroundings matched my assumption. There were more bodies here than I’d seen in the stairwell, but thankfully none of them were as repugnant as the one of the agent next to me. The nausea rose again when I remembered, but I managed to tamp it down. Everything was still – until the phone rang.

My heart leapt in my mouth – both out of joy and fear. I could speak to this person and get help – or an agent could hear the sound and come investigate where it was coming from. If it were the latter, though, I still needed to go and silence the phone. With a grunt, I shifted my balance to my right hip and used my right arm as leverage to shuffle forward. My left arm remained somewhat still but my left leg was completely uninhibited. Every time I accidentally jerked the limb, fresh pain coursed through me. Somehow, the pain both cleared the fuzziness from my brain and compounded it, but I gritted my teeth and made way.

The phone was only a few feet away, but it was difficult to make much progress when you could only rely on one side of your body. Just when I feared the phone was going to stop ringing, I reached my destination. It was in the pocket of another dead man – likely a techie. I slumped against him and fumbled in his pocket. With fingers trembling as much from exhaustion as anticipation and worry, I pulled it out.

“Hello?” I croaked, barely recognising my voice.

“Hello? Finally! Is anybody there? Hello?”

It was Tony Stark.

I started crying so hard from relief, so much so that I almost forgot to reply. “Tony?” I wailed. “Where are you? Oh, god, _Tony_!”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, “Scandal?” an incredulous voice came through.

“Tony!” I dissolved into another crying fit. “Please! You’ve got to help me!”

“Oh, god, kid! I’m sorry, but you have to listen to me! You need to get to my office, can you do that?”

“What?”

“I said, you need to get to my office!”

“Tony,” I said, barely registering what he was saying, “it’s Robson. Agent Robson’s behind the attack. And Loki. Oh, god, Loki.”

“What?”

“Loki went away with him. With Robson. They took him. They want to kill you!”

“For fuck’s sake!” he swore. Then, more calmly, he added, “I’ll try and reach Thor. But forget about that now. Kid, are you there?”

“Yeah,” I said, piteously.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I think – I think I’ve broken my left arm and leg.”

“Can you wrap them up?”

I didn’t know how I could find anything to secure my limbs with, leave alone how I was going to secure them with only one arm intact. “I don’t know; I don’t think so.”

Another pause. “Okay. Okay. Where are you?”

“Your office floor.”

“What? Oh thank god! Alright, listen, Scandal. I need you to do something very, very important for me. I know you’re hurt and scared right now, but I don’t have anyone else. Only you. Can you help me?”

“What?” I moaned. My head had begun throbbing now.

“I need you to go to my office and activate FRIDAY, JARVIS’ backup.”

It took a while before his words could sink in. “I can’t do that! I don’t know how!”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, “I will guide you. I wouldn’t ask this of you, but since you’re the only one who I’ve been able to reach, you’re my only hope. Please, Scandal. Please.”

My sobs started again. I wanted to go home. I didn’t care anymore. If this could be over – if the pain could be over – then I didn’t care, no matter what happened to me. I wanted to lie down and shut my eyes and hope for the best as I waited for the end. None of this was right. I shouldn’t have to be in the middle of this. I was just a PR.

“Tony!” I cried, “I can’t!”

“You can,” he said with a desperate sort of gentleness, the kind of gentleness that you forced yourself to use when you wanted to get something done. “You’re such a smart and brave and strong girl, I know you can. Please, Scandal.”

“No!” I wept. “I can’t!”

“Kid… life or death situation, remember?” he said, echoing the same question he had asked me in my interview.

In that moment, I hated Tony Stark. I hated him for his charisma, his cheeky smiles and his warm words, his way of putting everyone at ease and making even his enemies not help but like him. I hated how he asked and asked and asked. I hated how he had sucked me into this world of secrets and magic and pain and assassinations. I hated how he was making me confront that I wasn't perfect, but I wasn't completely selfish either. Most of all, I hated him for this fanatic loyalty he inspired in me, so much so that I would keep charging through even when half my body was collapsing.

I couldn’t disappoint him. Even through all my pain and frazzled nerves, I wanted to help people, especially him. Loki was right – it was alarming just how much I wanted to please Tony. But, at the thought of Loki, something ugly coursed through me. I remembered his greed and arrogance and cruelty and I remembered his apology. It had seemed so real then, so poignant and touching, but now I knew it was anything but. I wanted to end him. I wanted to make him suffer just as I was suffering right now. I couldn’t end him or make him suffer, but I wanted to defeat him – and this was my chance.

Using the desk as support, I heaved myself up. But before I could fully straighten myself, my leg gave away and I howled as the agony rushed through me again.

“Tony,” I whimpered.

He sighed. “It’s okay, kid. You tried. I know you did. I’m proud of you.”

With a cry of pain and frustration, I heaved myself up again and tottered against the desk, reaching a hand out to steady myself.

Breathing heavily, I said, “I’m up.”

There was a pause, then he said, his voice heavy with emotion, “I am so, so proud of you. We’re going to save everyone together, I promise.”

“Let’s get on with it,” I said impatiently, both because my patience with him and my tolerance for pain were running out.

I hobbled forward on one foot, wincing and groaning as my leg and arm swung unrestricted. It felt like ages but I finally made it to his office. I was sweating and panting all the more heavily by that time and I felt like I could throw up again from the exertion. I pushed opened the door.

There was no one inside.

I took in a shaky breath. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Good,” he said calmly and I marveled at how in-control he sounded. “Go behind my desk. There will be a metal cabinet to the bottom right with a keypad. Have you found it?”

“Wait,” I groaned as I shuffled forward.

I didn’t see how I was going to manage lowering and lifting myself again, particularly now that even my right leg was beginning to tire. Tony’s office seemed huger than usual as I inched towards the desk. Once I finally arrived, I put the phone on the table and used the table as support to shuffle behind. My leg trembled and I ended up wobbling on the left for a split second before there was a pop and my knee gave way and I fell to the ground.

Fresh tears squeezed out of my eyes. “Shit,” I wheezed.

“Kid?”

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

“You’re doing so good, kid, so good. You are so brave and good and we will get through this together, okay? Pull the keypad open. The codes won’t work right now. There should be a scanner inside where you can place your thumb.”

I doubted that would work, since it was conditioned to accept Tony’s fingerprint, but I didn’t comment. I did as he said. A small red light lit up by the edge.

“Done,” I said.

“Great, now close the keypad and enter the code JX.”

“JX,” I recited.

“01”

“01”

“7I”

“7I” 

“O0″ 

“O0”

“2L”

“2L,” I finished. The red light turned to green to my relief. “Done.”

“You’re doing so good. Now pull open the door and then pull open only the bottom-most drawer, do you hear me? Only the bottom-most drawer.”

I did as he said and pulled open the drawer that was more like a tray. It was filled with black foam. In the middle lay an indentation and in that indentation lay a slim, rectangular chip with the text ‘FRIDAY’ written on top.

“Is this it? FRIDAY?” I asked.

“Yep! Now take it out and shut the drawer and the cabinet. Can you stand?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” I winced as I began lifting myself again. Mercifully, this time, I managed to stand without falling midway.

“Scandal, I want you to know you’re helping hundreds of people. Now, you see the computer right?”

“Yeah.” I bent my chest over the table, freeing my right hand for use.

“Do you see the black box next to it? It should look like, I don’t know, a detachable CD drive that doubles as an audio player. It should say ‘SXS’ on it. Do you see it?”

“Yeah. You want me to insert the chip into it?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about the computer, it will turn on on its own.”

I pulled the device closer to me and inserted the chip. For a few seconds, nothing happened and I was worried that I’d done something wrong, when suddenly, a whirring noise started and the screen lit up. 

“It’s on! It’s on!”

“Okay, now, you just need to type some code in. I’ll tell you everything, don’t worry.”

“Okay, okay.”

He recited his login details which I put in as fast as I could, given that I was typing with only one hand. I entered the code that he dictated and then, when the last question came up on the screen, ‘Integrate matrices and interfaces?’ I typed in ‘Yes’ and an Iron Man model popped up on the screen. Above it was a bar, which was filled within seconds. A beat, then:

“FRIDAY!” Tony exclaimed. “Oh god, I could kiss you now. And you, Scandal! Kid, you did it! You did it!”

But I was too overwhelmed by my pain to join Tony in the celebration. “Tony?” I moaned. “You promised. You promised.”

“I’m getting you out of there, kid, I promise. FRIDAY, send in the Iron Legion to the city and send in one Legionnaire to Scandal in my office and make sure it takes her to safety.”

Barely a second passed till one of the suits in Tony’s office came flying down to me. I shrieked, but before I could wriggle out, it lifted me into its arm and said, “We are here to help.” 

With the arm that wasn’t holding me, it released a beam that melted a sizeable hole into the glass wall. Once the hole was big enough, the armour picked me up like a mother would lift her child and flew through the window and up the Tower. My eyes were squeezed shut and I was clinging to the suit with all four limbs. The adrenaline had numbed the pain for now and the fear of falling to my death had overridden any hesitation. The sounds of battle caught my attention. Several agents were fighting other agents alongside Thor and someone else. 

The figure next to Thor stepped up in front of some petrified civilians and let loose a haze of green light on to his enemies. Golden light surrounded him and I watched in fascination as the light solidified into definite shapes on his head and his body. There was something magnificent about the scene unfolding before me. Even though I was fairly high up above the rooftop by now, I felt as if the power and regality radiating from the man lit up every nerve in my body. I drank in the sight of him. The golden light had given way to a green cape and a breastplate of some sorts. It was only when I saw the light on his head curve outwards that I understood.

It was Loki.

Something hit the Legionnaire carrying me and it began falling. Likely, I was screaming. The Legionnaire slowed the fall and fell on its back, me on top, cushioning the blow somewhat. I tumbled out of its grip, confused. Several things were happening at once. A helicopter was crashing. Loki had appeared right next to me. He pushed me roughly, sending me sailing a few feet away. My head hit the ground and I saw stars. It was a prettier sight than the blood and smoke, I supposed. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was a pair of green eyes peering into me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Score? Should we even be scoring them on this chapter?
> 
> 2\. If it's not evident, I struggled with this chapter. Characterisations were a little tricky, but more importantly, action scenes aren't my forte, just like plot isn't, but I'm willing to learn. Please send in any feedback you'd like to give. I welcome it.
> 
> 3\. Thank you to people who sent good wishes last week. My life has stabilised a bit. I barely have any time to write now, however, but I'll be trying my best. Updates will happen on Fridays, but I can't guarantee weekly updates after mid-Feb. I'm sorry, I'm trying to build up a buffer, but given how the story's taking some sharp twists and turns, it's a little hard to just breeze through each chapter whenever I can squeeze in 5 minutes of time.
> 
> 4\. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story so far. I know some of you are getting a little impatient (read: A LOT impatient) but we're getting there, I swear.


	24. That Time We Took Sick Leave - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You recover in the aftermath of the attack. Read this on [ Tumblr](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182663709682/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-24).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place two days after the previous chapter, up to six days.

“– should leave before –”

“– stay here –”

“– scared –”

“– owe –”

The words came through as if they were being said underwater. I tried to hold on to them and make sense of them, but it was all I could do to stay awake. Coloured spots started crawling in front of my eyes and I tried to say something, but I was out again.

* * *

I woke up to a dark room. My vision adjusted slowly. I made out I was lying on a bed in a small room. My entire body felt heavy, but my head especially so. My breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise was the faint ticking of a clock that was coming from somewhere. It was oddly soothing, so I focused on it.

“You are awake.”

The voice seemed to come from my left. I would’ve jumped but my body didn’t just feel heavy – it felt restrained.

“What?” I muttered sluggishly.

“Relax. It is only I.”

The man’s voice was even more soothing than the ticking. I tried to think of words to describe it, but nothing was coming to mind. Or rather, the words just seemed to dance around the periphery of my mind. I licked my lips and tried to just focus on the voice.

“Who?” I rasped.

He appeared next to me. He bent close to me, not enough to make me feel trapped, but enough so that I could see his face. I wanted to ask him to keep speaking, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

I squinted at him, furiously licking my lips as if that would aid my concentration. He was familiar. Very familiar.

“If you do not recall, it is not –”

“Loki,” I said suddenly. “Loki. Right?”

“Yes.”

“I –” I began, but didn’t know how to continue for now there were more words in my head than I knew what to do with.

“You are safe.”

“Where am I?” I spluttered. “What – what happened?”

“You are safe. That is all that matters.”

“What have you _done_?” My agitation cut through the sluggishness in my mind and body and I realised while I could move the right side of my body, I couldn’t do anything about the left. “Why can’t I move –”

“Calm down. You must relax.”

“WHY CAN’T I MOVE MY BODY?”

He leaned in closer and my thrashing intensified. I tried kicking him, but before I could so much as reach his body, he pushed me down, his hand on my head. I was out before I hit the pillow.

* * *

The next time I woke up, the room was brighter. It was dim, but I could make out that it was daytime. I was able to make out other things as well. I was in a hospital. An IV feed was attached to my right hand. I was in a hospital gown. My left hand was in a cast and my left leg was slightly raised, with something that resembled a heavy-duty brace around the knee.

“Oh, right on time!” I heard a woman speak.

I looked slowly to the far right. It was a nurse.

“We were expecting you to wake up soon,” she said as she came over to me. Her voice was quiet, but pleasant. “Would you like to sit up?”

“Sure.” My voice was terribly raspy.

I tried getting up, but I barely moved an inch till the nurse gently hauled me up. I tried looking at her name tag, but couldn’t focus on the words.

She must have noticed my effort, for she said, “Reading will be a little difficult. I will get the doctor now. He will explain everything.” 

Before I could think whether I wanted her to stay, she had gone. I closed my eyes, trying to collect my thoughts. I remembered falling and I remembered the pain, but little else. The doctor came in soon.

“Hello!” he greeted cheerfully.

I managed a weak smile.

“I’m Dr. Cook,” he said, as he pulled a stool from under the bed and sat next to me. “I’ll be your primary care provider. Now,” he took out a pen and a notepad, “how are you feeling?”

“Shit.”

He chuckled. “Succinct. Do you remember your name?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at me expectantly for some reason. I stared at him, trying to figure out what he wanted.

“Can you tell me?” he prodded gently.

I told him and he nodded, scribbling something on his pad.

“Do you know where you are?” 

“A hospital,” I deadpanned.

He chuckled again. “I should’ve been more precise. Do you know which country you are in?”

This time, I remembered to give him a proper answer. “Yeah. USA. New York?”

“New York,” he confirmed. “Do you know who the President is?”

“Matthew Ellis.”

“Yup. Do you remember what happened?”

I frowned. I looked up and above, trying to remember. I was surprised by how unsurprised I was to be in a hospital. Was that a clue?

Dr. Cook must have sensed my struggle, for he said, “Take your time. Relax. Breathe. It will be easier then. Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out.”

I focused on him and his breathing and tried to match mine to his. It was working. My thoughts were unscrambling themselves.

“Um. There was an event. Something happened, I don’t know. I remember climbing a lot of stairs. Lots of climbing. And I remember falling.”

“Were you at the event?”

“I guess?” It seemed the most obvious thing. Why was he asking me that? But then, something went off in my mind. “Wait,” I said, a little more animatedly. “No. Yes. No. I was at the Tower! That Tower! What’s the name? Goddamn it, I can’t remember the name!”

“Relax,” he said. “Breathe.”

“No, no, the word, I can’t find it!”

“Breathe.”

I looked at him, frustrated. I didn’t want to breathe; I wanted to say the word. I _remembered!_

“What letter does the word begin with?” he prompted.

“A!” I said. Then, as if a bulb had switched on in my head, I said, “ _Avengers!_ I was at Avengers Tower! I work there!”

“Yes, you do. Now, please try to relax.”

He waited till I had forced myself to calm down.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Now, were you at the event?”

“No. I was going to be. I was in my apartment. I was with –” Oh, but now I remembered it all. I had been with _Loki_. But, I couldn’t say that, could I? Besides, he had done _something_. Something terrible.

“With?”

“I don’t know,” I said hurriedly.

“Do you remember anything else?”

Apparently, my memory was not as comprehensive as I’d thought it to be. “I fell down a, um, a large, a large _thing._ ” Again, I couldn’t find the word I was looking for. I could see it in my head, I just couldn’t voice it.

“That is perfect. You have a great memory.”

I grimaced.

“I’m serious. You are making excellent progress. Do you want to know why you are in the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a concussion. That is why you have trouble remembering events and choosing words, but it will come back if you allow yourself complete rest. You must be relaxed, okay?”

I nodded slowly. That did explain a lot.

“It’s more severe than usual cases, but not too bad. You prevented a lot of the impact to your head by landing on your left side. That is why your left arm is broken and you have a ruptured tendon in the knee.”

I nodded again. I was surprisingly calm with this information. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, or my concussed brain was just too sluggish to be alarmed. Or maybe, I realised I was lucky to be alive with relatively minor injuries.

“We had to perform a minor surgery on your leg to heal some of the tear. We hope that your body will take care of the rest, and it will, if you stick to complete bedrest for at least a week.”

That sounded fine by me. Except… “What about bathroom?”

He smiled sadly. I didn’t take that as a good omen. “We will have to use a bedpan.”

Aghast didn’t cover my reaction. “ _We_? There’s no ‘we!’ There’s only me!”

“Yes. You will have to use a bedpan. Maybe, after a week has passed by and you look like you can move with crutches, we can help you to the bathroom.”

“You are fudding me!” I exclaimed. The good doctor schooled his face into a blank expression. I realised what had slipped out and I rushed to correct myself, “I meant to say fucking about with me, but then I started saying kidding me and _oh god_!” I dry sobbed, trying to bury my face in my hands, then settling on burying it in only one hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said and gently pried my hand away from face. “It is alright. It is completely normal to have mood swings after a concussion, and you have just received some troubling news. It is alright, okay? Breathe with me.”

I did as he said and calmed down surprisingly quickly.

“Okay. Now, I will have a nurse come in and remove the IV, since you will be able to eat actual food now. She will take your vitals and help you adjust and then you can rest. I will schedule some routine check-ups for you later today – an eye-test, CT and some cognitive tests – and I’ll drop in on you again tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

The bedpan and the subsequent cleaning were less humiliating than I’d thought, maybe because wanting to get back to sleep as soon as possible was the only thing on my mind by then. I ate my lunch as the nurse quietly chatted with me. She informed me I’d been mostly asleep for two days, including the time I’d spent in surgery. I was asleep again before I knew it.

* * *

I woke up to the crushing feeling of loneliness. No one had come to see me. No one cared I was in pain. No one cared I’d almost died. Except, there _was_ someone here. He was sitting in a chair to the left and watching me intently.

“Loki,” I said.

He said my name in return. “How do you feel?”

“Shit.”

To my surprise, he let out a small chuckle. “Now you sound more like yourself. 

I cracked a smile. He stood up and pushed his chair closer. I winced as the legs of the chair scraped across the floor, making an awfully loud sound. He sat down and noticed my grimace.

“Are you in pain?”

“No. It was just too loud.”

“Ah, of course. You are sensitive to noise right now.”

I cocked my head. “You know?”

He nodded. “I asked your doctors about your condition and treatment.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged. “It is good to have any and every piece of information.”

That wasn’t really an answer, but it would do for now. I took in his appearance. He didn’t look as put-together as he normally did. His skin was paler than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes. Was he sick? What had he been up to these past few days?

“Why are you here?”

He regarded me cautiously. My eyes flitted over the rest of him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and pants like I’d last seen him in. He was wearing one of his usual Asgardian tunics. Why was he roaming around in public like this? Heck, why was he roaming around in public _at all?_

Slightly alarmed, I asked, “Loki, _how_ are you here?”

“How much do you remember?” he asked carefully.

It came crashing back to me – in the apartment, up above when I’d overheard him, _Robson_ , oh god, Robson and their bargain. My eyes widened and mouth opened in horror. He drew back, raising his hands, placating.

“If you would let me –”

I slammed the call button next to me and started screaming at the top of my voice. I don’t know if I was loud or the call button was effective, or both, but a couple of people came running in. The first person swung the door open, panting, and stared wide-eyed at what was going on. She froze as soon as she saw Loki, but before she could display any further reaction, three other people behind crashed into her and they all went tumbling to the floor.

“HELP ME!” I was screeching.

It would’ve been comical had it not been for the fact that the nurses and orderlies were as petrified – and useless – as me. One of them was stuttering something, but I couldn’t hear him over my shrieking.

“The lady is a little distressed,” Loki said coldly. “Nothing more. Go back to your chores.”

“IT’S LOKI OF ASGARD!!!! HELP!” I continued, not caring if I sounded like I needed a psychiatric evaluation. Yet judging by their reaction, I guessed it was safe to assume they were seeing the same thing as me.

Three of them managed to pick themselves up and ran out of the door. The woman who had entered first was backtracking, looking between me and Loki and sending me apologetic glances. She, too, left, leaving me all alone with the guy who’d been plotting to kill off the Avengers – twice. I’d exhausted what little strength I had in screaming. He rounded on me, shaking me by my right shoulder.

“I know you are suffering from memory loss,” he hissed, “but do you truly remember nothing else?”

His green eyes were boring into me, flashing with fury as if they were two emeralds throwing off the sunlight. He let go and moved away disgustedly, his back to me. The image of his green eyes staring into me remained in front of my mind’s eye. It was bringing back some memories – sounds, smells, sights. There was an explosion, there was lightning. There were people screaming. I was flying. No, I was being carried by someone – _something_. A robot, maybe. Then I was falling. And then, I saw those eyes again.

“It was you!” I croaked. When he didn’t turn around or give any sign that he’d heard, I continued, “You saved me!”

There was no reason other than pure intuition why I thought that, but it felt right.

“You and dozens, if not hundreds, of others,” he finally replied.

I wanted to ask what had happened, but all I could focus on was, “Why?”

He turned around. “Why?” he echoed, slowly prowling back to me. “Why?” he asked incredulously. “ _Why_?”

“Why would you save me? Why bother?” I asked quietly. 

" _’Bother_?’” he exploded. “You ungrateful little wretch! Did you want to die? Did you want me to let you die? Because if that is what you desire, then I can certainly oblige.”

I started crying, all irritability and doubt having vanished. He glared at me, then his rage disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared. His shoulders drooped ever so slightly as he rubbed a hand over his face.

“Forgive me, I should not have lost my temper. The doctors mentioned you would be feeling extremely vulnerable and disoriented, and your loss of memory would do nothing to alleviate that. I knew mortals were weak, but I did not comprehend fully just how _fragile_ you are,” he finished softly.

My crying spell ended just as quickly as his anger. I wiped my tears and nose roughly. “What happened?”

He straightened and shook his head. “Later. I will tell you later. You have already been more agitated than you should have been. For now, a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Thank you,” I said, as sincerely as possible.

I didn’t know if I had been able to convey my gratitude well enough, but he looked satisfied. “Rest now.”

He placed his hand on my forehead. I didn’t know if he did some magic, or if it was the feeling of his thumb soothingly stroking my head, but I fell asleep quickly.

* * *

 I woke up to the sound of Thor’s snores.

“Thor?” I asked. He kept on snoring. “Thor?” No answer. “Thor!”

He jumped upright and swung Mjölnir absently into the air. “Yes? What? Oh,” he uttered, once he saw I was staring at him. “My lady! You are awake! Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

“Relax, I’m fine! I’m fine,” I repeated till he believed me.

He stood up and came over to me. “My lady, I am truly glad to see you awake and well.”

I smiled weakly. “I’m glad you’re okay, too. What are you doing here?”

His brows furrowed, then relaxed again. “I was asked to be here in case my brother decided to terrorise you again.”

Guilt flooded me. “Oh, no, he – he didn’t, I –”

“I know, my lady. I know he saved your life and I know your mind was addled, but the healers insisted that you need to rest and recover and that his presence was not healthy for any patient. Your reaction was just as Tony had feared, so he used this incident to refrain Loki from coming.”

“Thor, what exactly happened?”

“I am not sure if I can tell it to you right now. You are still in a delicate condition.” I rolled my eyes, but he continued, “I would not like to be thrown out of the healing house like my brother. It is funny; usually it is I who is forcibly evicted from the premises for causing a disruption.”

“Just because I can’t move the left side of my body, doesn’t mean that the left side of my brain isn’t working.”

He laughed open-heartedly and I felt much better for the first time in… days? Time was a fleeting concept when all you did was sleep, eat, sleep and pee – in a bedpan. My contentment turned quickly to mortification as I realised that I was due for another encounter soon.

“We will tell you all in good time. But for now, know this, my lady: we could not have won the battle without you.”

“Without me?” I squeaked. “What do you mean?”

He looked dumbfounded. “You do not remember?”

“URGH!” I exclaimed and almost – _almost_ – slammed _both_ my hands down on my thighs. “I can’t remember anything to save my life!”

“Gentle, gentle,” Thor coaxed me. His touch calmed me, but then I thought about the last time I’d washed myself.

“Oh, god, Thor, don’t touch me!” I cried. “I haven’t taken a shower in days!”

He laughed again. This time, I scowled at that. “My lady, I have ridden in battle with men who have not bathed for months, leave alone days. You are perfumed compared to them.”

It wasn’t the best comparison, perhaps, but it got the point across. “Still.”

“Still nothing. The healers are taking care of you. You are fine.”

I nodded, still not fully convinced, but curious. “What did you say about me earlier?”

He looked unsure. “I do not know if I should tell you. Your healers might prefer you to remember yourself.”

Damn it! “Thor,” I began carefully, doing everything to mask my irritation, “I will smother you with Pop-Tarts if you tell me what’s up.”

He laughed yet again. “You drive a hard bargain, but you forget: I can always find a packet of Pop-Tarts at the Tower.”

I scowled, but he smiled and ruffled my hair affectionately.

“Alright, alright. Let it never be said that the Mighty Thor does not know how to treat a lady well. You helped Tony install a replacement for JARVIS. That replacement allowed him to better regain control of his armour and control a legion of iron armours that could suppress enemy fire and help the injured to safety. You did it even though your leg and arm were injured.”

I tried to envision that, but I couldn’t. It didn’t sound like me. I wasn’t so selfless and I didn’t have a high tolerance for pain. But, the iron armour part made sense. I realised now that what I had imagined as flying was actually a suit carrying me. 

“I remember one of the suits carrying me and then it dropped me. What happened?”

He shrugged. “The armours were in the early stages of development. Perhaps they failed, or perhaps they were hit. You fell and a helicopter was crashing. It almost hit you, but Loki pushed you away and shielded your body with his.”

“He saved my life,” I whispered as the realisation swept over me all over again, this time even more definitively. It felt right and I knew it was right but still, I couldn’t completely accept it. Loki being so selfless – that too with _me_ , of all people?

“Aye, he did. He healed some of your wounds as best he could, given that we were in the middle of a battle and there were other civilians to save.”

“What?” I asked, shocked.

He looked surprised. “Did he not tell you that?” 

“Well, he told me he had saved others’ lives, but not…”

“Not that he had healed you and the others?”

I shook my head.

“Aye,” he said heavily. “I doubt a lot of the people would have even survived the journey to here had he not intervened. The day took a heavy toll on us, but the cost would have been far greater had he not been able to wield his seiðr. I had my doubts, but I am glad I did not pay them any heed.”

I didn’t say anything after that and neither did Thor. He left me shortly after, calling in a nurse to take care of me behind him. I went through the routine motions and ate my food in silence, still processing everything he had told me and wondering what things would be like now that everyone knew about Loki and the Avengers knew of his powers. I fleetingly remembered what Loki had said to me before the attack – he had apologised. But it was too late to muse over that, for I had already fallen asleep.

* * *

The next few days were dreadfully boring. I learned that the entire city had been cordoned off, which was why my only visitors had been one Avenger and one semi-Avenger. There was a TV in my room, but no remote, because I was to have complete bedrest and a stress-free environment. It wasn’t too bad, I guessed, since I did spend most of my day sleeping. The concussion had wreaked havoc on my brain, but my body was also making up for the lack of sleep and abundance of stress the week before.

My arm was healing well, though my leg was still under wrap. The nurses had left a marker behind, in case someone wanted to write something on the cast, but I needed to have visitors for that. My vision was technically fine, even though it was a little blurry, but I was assured that would clear up soon. My mood still swung between extremes and I had headaches that would ebb and flow. The worst was that I still had difficulty remembering words that I wanted to say. Dr. Cook told me that these were still early days, that my brain still needed further recovery time, but I was _this_ close to making a joke about how he was a Cook who was a doctor.

I woke up on what I guessed was the sixth day to find Loki sleeping in the chair to the side. He was slumped against the back of the chair. His arms were loosely crossed in front of his chest and one leg was draped over the other. He did not look as haggard as the last time I had seen him. The dark circles had disappeared and he didn’t look so unhealthily pale anymore. He had ditched the Asgardian tunics in favour of black pants and a grey shirt that had been rolled up to the sleeves. He looked so relaxed, so calm. It was refreshing to see him not look as severe as always.

“I know you are awake,” he suddenly said and my heart leapt into my mouth. “I heard your breathing change.” His eyes opened. 

“That’s messed up.”

“But true.”

“No, it’s not,” I said petulantly.

He peered at me for a few moments before he burst into laughter. I watched him, surprised, as a smile threatened to take the place of the scowl.

“No, it is not,” he agreed. “I heard you shuffling in the bed. Are you in discomfort?”

“No, just sick of lying on my back all day.”

He stretched out both of his legs in front of him and his arms above his head. He rotated his neck till there was a pop, then eased back into the chair with a quiet sigh. His relaxed demeanour disappeared, however, and he looked at me cautiously.

“Sorry about last time,” I said sheepishly.

“No need to apologise. You were disoriented.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

He looked surprised. “You already thanked me.”

“I know, but it didn’t sound sincere enough. And I didn’t know then that you’d healed me. And all the others. You saved them too. Thank you.”

He got up hurriedly and went to the small table next to the bed. He filled a glass with water from a jug and handed it to me. “Drink.”

“Thank you,” I said after I’d gulped down the water.

He took the glass and gruffly put it back in position. “Did Thor tell you?” he asked, still fidgeting with the bedside table.

“Yeah.” 

“Curse him. He knows he is not supposed to tell you anything until the doctors –” But he didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, for at that moment, Tony walked in.

He stood awkwardly by the door for a few moments, then raced inside. Before I could even register what was happening, he was crushing my body to his. He was mumbling something into my shoulder and I realised, with no small amount of horror and bewilderment, that he was crying. I awkwardly patted his back, not sure if he wanted that gesture of comfort. I turned my head to look at Loki, who was eyeing this spectacle with nothing but a single arched eyebrow.

Tony moved away from me after what seemed like ages. I finally took him in properly.  Tony looked ten times worse than how I thought I looked. His entire face was sunken and I made out bruises of various colours all over his face and hands. Though he was wearing a suit as pristine as any other, it was only a half-hearted attempt for the man to do what he did even better than being a genius: appear like he was in control.

“Tony, is Pepper okay?”

He looked at me, dazed. Then, he said, “What? Yeah, yeah, of course she is! A little hurt, a little worried, but back on track leading the masses – which is more than what I can say for myself. No, she’s fine, kid. What?” he asked shrewdly, “You thought I was crying for her?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m crying for you, you stupid child!” he exclaimed dramatically.

“Wow, rude. But thanks.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and ruffled his already wild hair with the other hand. “God, kid, I thought you were done for. When FRIDAY told me that the Iron Legionnaire had lost control… _god!_ But, listen,” he clutched my hand, “Don’t you dare worry about expenses, okay? I’ve spoken with your doctors and I’ll cover your physiotherapy, speech-therapy and mental therapy, okay? You just focus on recovering. You helped me get myself and my Legionnaires on track. That is no small feat. So, yeah, you rest and recover, then I’ll try to swing a medal or two for you as well. Oh, and, I was thinking of naming one of my future inventions or software after you, but I have yet to come up with a suitable full-form for the letters.” 

I blinked repeatedly, head actually hurting as I tried to keep up with his rambling. “Tony, that’s very kind of you… but I’m sure there are other people who are worse off than me. People who actually got…”

“Shot?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. Maybe his offer wasn’t so bad.

“Of course I’m paying for everyone, including the rebuilding of the entire city! I’ve practically loaned out the Metro-General Hospital, even managed to get Stephen Strange after I showed him that he literally owed us his life, no thanks to SHIELD – or HYDRA, whatever. So, yeah, chill. Besides, you deserve it.”

“Of course she does,” Loki interjected. “Had she not exerted herself for you and your errand, she would not have required any surgery for her leg, nor would she have almost fallen to her death.”

Tony seemed to notice Loki for the first time since his arrival. He crossed his arms and said, “I’m sorry, remind me when I missed the part about you being a certified doctor? Or, you know, the part where you _conveniently_ waited to see which way the tide was turning before stepping in to help anyone?”

Before this could head further south, I intervened. “ _Enough_. Both of you!” I took my sweet time glaring at the two till they stood down. “ _Both_ of you have saved lives, _both_ of you have helped me, so stop it. I haven’t taken a shower in _days_ , so if you want to bitch about, kindly do it outside because I look and feel filthy enough as it is without getting splattered from your pissing contest.”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes and moved away from the bed. Tony remained standing where he was, looking irritated.

“Say the word and I’ll have Edward Cullen evicted from this room,” Tony said.

“Don’t call him that!” I spluttered.

“What? It’s a good nickname. He’s pale, got dark hair, looks constipated –”

“Tony.”

“He’s been watching you sleep, for fuck’s sake! And who’s to say he can’t read minds?”

I turned to Loki. “Can you read minds?”

“Yes I can –”

“HAH!” went Tony.

“Hold your bladder, Stark,” Loki glared at him. “As I was saying, I _can_ read minds, but only when I touch someone’s head and only when I use my seiðr.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” I said, sounding more assertive than I felt. “And, he’s not like Edward Cullen, okay? For starters, he doesn’t _sparkle_.”

“Your standards have dropped, kid.”

“I didn’t have any in the first place.”

“Well, it’s good to see you haven’t at least lost your sense of humour. Anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner. It’s been… stressful trying to sort the mess, get the city – _cities_ – back up and running, people to help and I’ve been trying to organise transportation for family and friends of those injured, but I’ve had to prioritise and even that has been difficult with the blockade. You were playing Sleeping Beauty, so I thought…”

I snorted. “Sleeping Ugly, more like.” Then, turning serious, I asked, “What happened, Tony?”

He sighed. “Long story short, SHIELD was infiltrated by HYDRA. They were also the ones who killed Fury. HYDRA planned to kill around twenty million people who it deemed were or could be a threat. Once they were dead, the proletariat would ‘hand over their freedom’ to HYDRA, so to speak, in exchange for security. Cap and Nat stopped them in D.C., but they had come up with a Plan B to attack the rest of the team and all the people on their hit list who had conveniently gathered at the Tower for the luncheon. It wouldn’t be twenty million dead, but it would still make an impact.”

“Wow,” I whistled. “That sounds… delusional.”

“I know, right? They came scarily close to accomplishing it. D.C. is mostly fine but New York has suffered… again.” It was a pointed jab at the third person in the room, but Loki didn’t seem to take the bait. Tony cleared his throat. “Anyway, um, I’m sorry for this, but I have to leave. I wish I could’ve stayed longer, but there is just so much to do.”

“Tony, it’s fine. Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded. “Yup. Of course. Stay strong and just focus on recovering. And, remember, if you need to throw him out, feel free. The hospital staff will not chicken out this time. I’ve given them a pep talk and left them with instructions to contact me should he get up to anything.” He gave Loki a parting glare and me a finger salute and left.

A beat. Then, “Who is Edward Cullen?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I am serious.” Instead of dragging the chair, he picked it up and placed it next to the bed.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s a fictional character. He’s an ass.”

“You have called me the same – and much worse.”

My lips twitched. “Yeah, well, he’s weird and creepy and toxic and weird and dull and insipid and… yeah.”

He nodded seriously. After a long pause, he said. “No one has ever stood up for me before, especially over something so trivial.”

“Thor stands up for you literally all the time.”

“Thor is an oaf who thinks he can understand me and what I have gone through. He thinks by dishing out a few compliments about me he can set centuries of neglect and disregard to rights.”

I didn’t want to press too much on this, given that I wasn’t in the condition to and I had no idea what had happened centuries before my birth, so I said, “He told me you healed me and a lot of other people. He told me, and I quote, that without you, the attack would have taken a heavier… oh, fuck, what’s the word?”

“Toll.”

“Toll, yes. Thanks.”

Loki clucked his tongue. “Stop thanking me. This is exactly what is wrong. My brother thinks I am some sort of a hero and he has passed on that sickly adoration to you. I am _not_ a hero and I am not one of you.”

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you are thinking it.”

“I want to know what was up with you and…” I couldn’t bring myself to take Robson’s name. “those people from HYDRA when I overheard you. And if you do not tell me, I will have you removed from the room,” I said firmly.

I was being silly. Why would he accept this deal? Yes, he’d been coming to my room for whatever reason, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to take care of me.

“Trying to bargain with me, little one?” he asked, amused.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “you’ll probably just leave anyway.”

“I suppose I can afford to indulge you this one time,” he said. Ignoring my look of amazement, he continued, “As you know, I left your rooms to gather information. I managed to keep low and understand the nature of the attack and eventually, I apprehended one of the assailants. He told me what I wished to know. Then, I overheard Robson on his device,” –  at Robson’s mention, my breath hitched – “giving the instruction that your rooms should be searched, since it was possible you would know my whereabouts. I revealed myself and let myself be taken in. I was playing him, trying to gather more information, but I was not aware he was playing us all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Robson was not a part of Hydra. He was operating _against_ HYDRA.”

“What? But… _how_? I _heard_ him! He was going to…” I trailed off, unable to complete that thought.

“When he found out about the attack, he positioned himself as the leader and managed to get a few of his trusted men in the operation. He and his men were trying to shoot the civilians only in their legs and taking out the HYDRA agents whenever they could. He was pretending he wanted me to be their mascot for chaos, but in reality, he wanted to lock me away to prevent exactly that from happening.” 

“You _knew?_ ”

“No, I did not find out until later, after the Hulk’s attack. I never thought I would say this,” he chuckled bitterly, “but I welcomed his arrival. I did not trust Robson and I was not sure what would have happened if the algorithm had run its course and your face appeared.”

His voice didn’t change in its tone, but I could sense that he was far more worried about I being executed than he was letting on. There was also the fact that he had so nonchalantly said, as if he didn’t want to let on that it was a big deal, he had turned himself in when he heard the agents were going to storm my apartment. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

“Where’s Robson now?” I whispered.

“He is in a critical condition. I do not know how and when he got injured, for we were separated once he had managed to lure Thor with the intention of seeking his help to lock me away. We were fighting for a while after Thor and I managed to undo my restraint, but I did not see where he went away.”

“Oh god…” I clutched my head.

“Do not blame yourself in any way. You were reacting based on the information you had. There was nothing else you could have done or said.”

The situation sounded highly unlikely, but what would Robson have done if my name had appeared? Would he have let me die? Would Loki have intervened?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly.

His eyes narrowed. “You owe me your life, mortal, so you will answer me truthfully when I ask you something.”

I was too caught up in my depressing line of thought to take offense at his presumptuousness, so I said, “What would you have done if Robson had been the bad guy all along? What would you have done if my name had popped up?”

He was staring intently at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.

His voice was devoid of any expression as he said, “My answer does not matter, for you will believe whatever you want. More likely than not, what you believe will be the truth – or at least, it will be your truth.” 

He left shortly, brusquely ordering me to rest. But rest was the furthest thing from my mind for the rest of the day as I puzzled over not just the concern the God of Mischief had shown me, but also the apology he had given me that lay unacknowledged and almost deliberately forgotten for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I think it's time to discontinue the scoring, since that was when they were busy pissing off each other.
> 
> 2\. HAH to all you Robson-haters.
> 
> 3\. Looks like you guys might get weekly updates after all. A major commitment I had this semester got cancelled, leaving me with up to 5 hours of free time. On one hand, sure, free time. On the other, the way it has come about is officially one of the most messed up things and disturbing in my life. Three weeks in and this is already the worst semester so far. I swear this, along with everything else, is my punishment for subjecting Scandal to so much torture. Heck, I fell in the snow twice in two weeks - and in my entire life - this semester!
> 
> 4\. I have created a [ playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/xtarkr3k4mswnwq4xfz9qemxo/playlist/4m39sWw5qn3Qqsq2xuzCjn?si=nphBg5NBQfCM48XpP66R5A) for this story. I wish I could include a mini-description with each song about how I've envisioned it ties into the story and/or relationships. If you have any suggestions on songs for this story, drop me a note on my Tumblr!
> 
> 5\. I've been tossing around with the idea of writing this story (or some points in their relationship) from Loki's POV. What do you guys think?


	25. That Time We Took Sick Leave - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your recovery continues, with help from Loki. Read this chapter on [Tumblr. ](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182832203002/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-25)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midway through Week 2 in the hospital.

Loki was eyeing me critically.

“You have lost weight.” 

“Thanks?”

“It was not a compliment.”

“Blame the hospital food.”

Over ten days of overcooked meat, watery soup, two chunks of fruit and three pieces of boiled veggies would do that to you. At least my recovery was going well. My eyes and ears were still sensitive, but the headaches and mood swings had stopped. My leg was faring well, too. The stiches had been removed and while the leg would continue to be in a brace for a few more weeks, I was allowed to use the crutches to go to the bathroom under supervision. It was still embarrassing, but at least I was free from bedpans. I had been shocked when I had first seen my reflection. To say I looked dreadful would be an understatement. My hair was matted, my skin sallow, my eyebrows wild and my lips cracked. I took my first shower in more than a week with great relief, even thought it had been under supervision and I had had to be content with only patting my legs with a wet cloth. I managed to not break a comb as I went through my hair. I was exhausted by the end of my expedition, but I couldn’t deny I felt very satisfied and clean.

Get well soon wishes had begun coming in. Though I wasn’t the popular kid in town, I was content with what I got. Roisin had burst into tears when she had seen my state. She was outwardly unharmed, but I could see she was under a lot of pressure. Tony had forced half of the team, including Stella, to go on leave to take care of themselves and their families. Roisin and the remaining others were doing their best, but it was taking a toll on them. With the city was out of lockdown, I also got friends and family visiting me. They were equal parts horrified, incredulous and upset with me for not telling them I was working for bloody Loki of Asgard, but at least they were gracious enough to defer the discussion for when I was feeling better.

“It is still healthier than the refuse you called food you were consuming last week,” Loki said, presently.

“Okay, first, you made me eat more ice-cream than I would’ve, so we’re partners in crime when it comes to my unhealthy eating habits. Second, you were supposed to cook for me and third, I need to lose all that weight from all that ice-cream I ate anyway.”

“What is your preoccupation with losing weight?” he asked, irritated. “You look like a corpse.”

“Hey, has anyone ever told you that your bedside manner is _shit_?”

“I can leave, if you wish. And I remind you: I am not your personal cook. I am a Prince of Asgard and you will do well to remember that, concussed or not.”

I inhaled deeply. “You know, for a guy who loves sassing everyone left, right and centre, you sure don’t know how to _take_ the sass.”

“I am a god, not an imbecile who will tolerate your impertinence. If a fool is what you desire, then I will go fetch one.”

As if on cue, someone entered the room.

“Daniel!” I squealed, absolutely delighted.

I was disappointed with myself for not giving him a single thought all this while. Still, I couldn’t deny I was happy to see him, though I was less happy to see he was not uninjured. He threw me a half-smile, but didn’t step inside. Instead, he was staring past me.

Oh.

“Visiting hours are over,” Loki said firmly.

Daniel seemed to snap out of a stupor. A variety of expressions flitted across his face: shock, terror, intrigue and uncertainty. He looked as if he were going through an inner battle before he half-shrugged.

“You’re still here,” he said, trying to sound brave but failing miserably.

I went still from fear. The room was dim and it seemed to darken further from Loki’s mounting displeasure.

“I saved her life. She owes me her life and time – neither of which she owes you.”

“I’m Daniel. I’m her friend. We met at the party,” Daniel said.

“I am a god and I do not care. Leave before I make the attack seem like a stroll in the woods compared to what awaits you.”

“Loki!” I exclaimed, chagrined at how obnoxious he was being. He hadn’t been even half as insufferable with Tony last week. “Daniel, it’s okay; Loki, please come in. I mean! Loki, it’s okay; Daniel, please come in!”

“See? You need to rest. You are still mixing up your words,” Loki stated. 

“Thanks for reminding me!” I snapped, blinking back the unexpected tears. Apparently, I had been wrong about the mood swings. “It’s bad enough that I have to think for a while before I say anything to you so that I don’t sound like a complete idiot and annoy you even more than you already are with me, Mr. I’m-so…, well-spoken-and-all.” 

His eyes narrowed in surprise, but he didn’t say anything. With a final scowl at Daniel, he prowled back to his chair – _throne_ – and stuck his nose back into the book he was reading.

“Come here,” I ordered Daniel.

He threw more uncertain glances at Loki, before finally deciding to approach me. He walked slowly as if he were worried – rightly – he was going to get attacked any moment. Once he was next to me, he dipped down and carefully hugged me.

“Don’t cry,” he said gently, as he ruffled my hair, “you’ll look even more like a raccoon than you do now.”

I hit him on the back and pushed him away.

He snickered. “Sorry, sorry.”

I huffed and Loki muttered incoherently to himself. “Fine. I forgive you, though you’re hardly one to talk.”

The bruise around Daniel’s right eye was a colour I didn’t even know bruises could be. There was a bandage wrapped around his head and his left shoulder was in a sling. I almost asked him what had happened, before I realised it was not the right thing to do.

He decided to open up himself. “Yeah, hit my eye against something weird, so it was all puffy and red and I ended up injuring the area around it as well. Also got shot in the shoulder, which, by the way, is not as harmless at the movies make it look. I lost a lot of blood and there has been some nerve damage, but the doctors are confident it will become better over time. I was surprised they didn’t shoot me in the head; after all, they caught me trying to bring JARVIS back into action.”

“Might have been one of the ‘good’ guys. There were some people who were working against HYDRA from within the attack team,” I said, thinking of Robson. Had he been the one who shot him?

He looked at me oddly. “I’d heard that theory going around. I thought it was just the nutters saying that.”

“It’s true,” I said quietly. “Anyway, so you’re still at the hospital?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “but not out of choice. Tony insisted. I don’t really need the help, so I try to volunteer and help the nurses and orderlies with their tasks. It keeps me occupied and feel less guilty. Anyway, what happened with you?”

“Well, I fell through a hole in the floor. Landed on my left side. Broke my arm, ruptured the tendons in my knee, got a concussion.”

“Yikes,” he grimaced.

“Yup. So, yeah, I can relate with you on the Tony front.”

“Yeah, but he has a point with you, especially since you helped with FRIDAY.”

“So does he with you. You got shot, for god’s sake. And okay, maybe you couldn’t get everything back up. But you tried. And, you got shot for your efforts, so yeah.”

We looked at each other, amused and unconvinced, knowing that the other knew we were unconvinced. I guessed it was hard for both of us to believe we’d contributed somehow.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry I didn’t visit earlier. I should’ve.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” I patted his hand. “You were dealing with your own stuff – and still are. It’s fine. You’ve come now and I couldn’t be happier.”

He leaned closer to me again. “I really shouldn’t have been that surprised when I heard about you being here, but I was.” He inched even closer and whispered, “More like, I heard about _him_ being here and constantly camping in someone’s room and then, you know, I was bored, so I was going through the newspaper and I saw an article of him and there was a photo of you and him together at that party! So, yeah, I did a little guesstimate and found you.”

“Congrats,” I teased.

He shot a couple of furtive glances at Loki. “Wow,” he kept whispering. “Wow. I still can’t believe it’s really him.”

“Oh, it is.”

“Shit, man!” he yelped, awed, before returning back to the hushed tone. “Why is he here, though? I’m just curious.”

It was a good question to which I had no answer. He had saved me, yes, but why was he still hanging around? Even if he didn’t have better things to do, it was hardly as if I was great company.

“He saved my life and others’, I guess he’s just checking in.”

“I don’t think supervillains just ‘check in.’”

“ _Former_ supervillain.”

“Still.”

“You are aware I can hear you both, yes?” Loki suddenly spoke up.

Daniel blanched. It would’ve been comical, had I not noticed his bruises standing out even more in his pallor. Thankfully, there were no further words from Loki. Daniel got up and fetched a bag he’d placed to the side.

“Here,” he said, carefully taking out the package, “I thought you _might_ like it.”

It was a set of Crayola crayons and two colouring books – a Doctor Who themed one and one with messages with good vibes. The quality of the paper was excellent, the lines were clearly drawn and there were not too many patterns and segments the way most colouring books had. They were perfect.

“Thank you!” I squealed and pulled him into a bear hug. “Oh my gosh, this is _excellent_! I can’t read, I can’t watch anything, I can’t play a game, I can’t do anything, so this is perfect! Perfect! Thank you!”

He looked a little embarrassed by my delight. “You’re most welcome. I’m glad you like it. Besides,” he said with a sly grin, “it looks like you ‘kneed’ a pick-me-up.”

I blinked at him like a goldfish. “You little shit! How dare you?”

He merely guffawed.

I hit him again. “You come into my house and you disrespect me!”

“I’m sorry,” he said between laughs, “but I came all the way from ‘Kneed’ham!”

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, I only fuck girls who need a nightcap, not a _kneecap_.”

“I’m gonna knee you in the groin if you keep this up!” I growled.

“Ooh, are you going to go all Liam ‘Knee’son on me?”

I kicked his leg.

“Ow!” He exclaimed, even though it was delivered with hardly any force.

He swatted my right leg in turn. It was a gentle swat, if you could even call it a swat, but none of that mattered. Immediately, Loki stood up, eyes glinting with cold fury.

“Do you wish for your other arm to be incapacitated as well, _mortal_?”

Had he saved hundreds of people a little over ten days ago? Yes. Was he still going to murder my friend in front of me for merely touching my _uninjured_ leg? Absolutely. The feeling of fearing for someone else’s life other than my own around Loki was unfamiliar, and I had no desire to be better acquainted with it.  

“Loki, it’s fine! He didn’t hurt me! We were just playing!”

“It is _not_ fine,” he snapped at me. “You like seeing the good in everyone but you are mistaken. Now, get out,” he commanded Daniel.

“Loki, for god’s sake –”

“Get out, lest you want your shoulder to be permanently decapitated.”

“Okay! Thanks for visiting, Dan! See you sometime else!” I cried, fake-cheerfully.

Daniel didn’t need my cue, for he was already backtracking out of the door much like the nurse from last week. “Yup! Bye!”

Loki had remained standing a minute or so after Dan had left, glaring in the general direction of the door as if exorcising his lingering presence. Eventually, he settled down, going back to his book as if he’d stood up for nothing more than to stretch his legs.

“What the hell, Loki?” I exploded.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I will not stand by anyone impeding your recovery, least of all that man-child.”

My eyes bulged outward incredulously. “For the last time, he wasn’t hurting me! He was just trying to cheer me up! He was being nice!”

“If making fun of you is ‘nice,’ then no one is nicer than I am to you.”

I gave up.

* * *

Loki was shaking me awake. “Wake up. Wake up!” he urged between exclamations of my name.

“Wha-what? What is it? What’s wrong? Are we under attack? What’s wrong?”

“Relax. _Breathe_ ,” he said, pushing my shoulder gently, but firmly.

“But, but, you said –”

“ _Relax_ ,” he commanded, pushing down more firmly on my shoulder.

I settled back, shivering a little as I remembered my dream. Loki stepped to the bedside table and poured me a glass of water, which I promptly gulped down. He put the glass back on the table, then gingerly sat on the bed next to my injured leg, instead of pulling up his chair like usual.

“You were having a nightmare.” It was a statement.

“Yeah,” I said, not looking at him.

He remained quiet. I hated that. If he had spoken, or commanded me in that haughty way of his, I could’ve fought with him and distracted myself. He would’ve insulted me, or become angry that I dared refuse him, or even, as seemed to be the case recently, let me be for fear of stressing me out. But when he was quiet, I felt like I had to fill the silence. I knew it was a ploy, but still I couldn’t help but vent.

“During the attack, when the Hulk smashed through, he stomped on one of the SHIELD agents. We both fell through the floor and I passed out. When I came to, I found myself lying next to his body.” My voice broke and I started sobbing piteously, still unable to meet his gaze. “It was horrible. I’ve never seen anything so… so…” I made a sound of frustration.

“What letter does it begin with?” he asked gently.

I fisted the blanket. “Never mind,” I growled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He sounded as if he wanted to add something more, but stopped himself in time.

I snapped my head up to look at him. “Why?” I fumed. “Why does it matter? Why have you been spending all this time here? I’m fine, I’m safe, I’m being cared for, you don’t need to be here. What do you want then? Do you just want to gloat over how… how… pathetic I am? How I can’t move and can’t even speak properly? Imagine, someone working in… this, this field and not being able to talk or write words. Must be funny for you, Mr. I-speak-Shakespeare.”

His face remained as composed as always, but his eyes glistened with some inscrutable emotion. Was it regret? Was it sympathy? Or perhaps, more pity? I wished it was anger and spite because then the Loki in front of me would be the same as the Loki in my dream. In my dream, his eyes watched my every cry, every struggle with malevolent delight as he had pawned me off to be subjected to the same treatment as the other agent before I fell down the whole. I had wept and pleaded, bringing up his apology minutes before the attack, but he had laughed again and again and called me pathetic. 

“Making you feel as if I was going to mock you for your ailments was never my intention. What did I say to make you feel this way?”

I groaned. It was my own insecurities and uncertainty with regards to him that were making me feel this way.

“Nothing. Nothing really. I just… well, I don’t know. You’ve always been on your ‘I am a god’ trip and said how much you hate us and how we’re all beneath you. You’ve always made fun of me as well. And whenever I slip up my words you always make it a point to bring it up.”

“I thought I had made up with you about my actions,” he said quietly. “Or do you not recall?”

He was talking about the apology. I hadn’t expected him to bring it up. I had mulled over it the past few days and the only thing that I could be sure about was that it had happened. “I remember,” I said, just as quietly. “I do. And I… thanks for it. I didn’t say much then, but yeah. Thank you. I accept it. But, I don’t think I can’t forgive you. Not yet, at least.” I bit back the urge to apologise. “It’s too soon for me and I still need to think about everything.”

“Very well.”

I searched his face. There was no emotion there and yet, there seemed to be so much vulnerability in his entire demeanour right now, even though he sat upright, chin high, shoulders thrown back and muscles relaxed. I had always been so vulnerable around him and emotional in ways that I would not even fathom being in front of most other people. Was I right in thinking that he was becoming more open, less guarded around me now?

“Loki,” I said softly, hands in my lap, “what happened to you?”

There it was, the first external sign of emotion. His gaze turned sharp and his body went rigid. There was a challenge in his eyes, as if he were asking me if I really wanted to play this game. He studied me and I could see the displeasure radiating from him – at himself, for how he was giving way and at me, for making him give way.

“Why does it matter?”

Clever bastard. If he had said ‘it does not matter,’ like I had, I could’ve thrown his own ‘it does’ back at him. But he was a master at this game of flipping words and shifting focus and I was only just beginning to play. All I could do was be somewhat honest with him.

“You’ve mentioned it a lot of times. I just wanted to know.”

“A woman once told me that what she suffered was as important and as real as what I had,” he said. For some reason, my heart began thudding hard. He continued, “The corollary is that even if I tell you my horrors, you cannot and should not compare them to what you have suffered, yes?”

I made a sound of bafflement. “’Corollary.’ What are you, a mathematician?”

A corner of his lips lifted. “At least you have still not lost your ability to use jests to deflect matters at hand.”

“You sound oddly happy. I remember you always getting very cross with me whenever I did it.”

“Yes, it does infuriate me, as does your wittering. Yet now, almost three months later, I have realised that your lack of emotion annoys me more than your display. I have _seen_ you at your most charged and _this_ ,” he gestured at me and around the room, “this listlessness is not you.”

“Maybe it _is_ me. Maybe this is who I really am – quiet, calm and stable.”

“Or maybe, the ‘quiet, calm and stable’ is just a front for the storm within.”

“Like you,” I blurted.

He smiled mysteriously. My cheeks burned with the suddenness and presumptuousness of my accusation. I hadn’t even thought about it; it had just erupted out of me. That was the way all my conversations with Loki ran. Thinking before speaking and weighing words was reserved exclusively for everyone who wasn’t Loki.

“You need to get better soon,” he said quietly. “The insipidity of this place bores me.”

“Okay, so, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I really don’t mean it in a bad way,” I prefaced, “and I really, really appreciate you sticking around, but can I ask you _why_ you have been sticking around? You didn’t need to check in on me even once this entire time, yet you’ve been here almost every day. You’re bored, like you said, and it must be ridiculous for you to see how weak us mortals are… so why?”

He shrugged lightly as he said, “I spent my seiðr on you and I would be terribly disappointed if my efforts at keeping you alive and functioning had gone to waste due to other people’s negligence.”

But why _me_ when you healed dozens of other people as well, I wanted to ask, but this question could lead to an entire theme park’s worth of adventure that I had no desire to embark upon.

“Mangled,” I piped up a few minutes later.

He looked at me questioningly.

“Mangled. That’s the word I was going for when I was describing that… body.”

He nodded. Then, solemnly he said, “I have my faults, but I would _never_ mock you for your ailment. Yes, mortals are weak, but at least their disabilities are out of their control. Their naivety, stupidity, selfishness and weakness of character are not.”

“Ah, so now I know what I’m going to be mocked about,” I said wryly. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” I said. “Pretty sure you’ve called me all of the above some time or the other.”

“I suppose,” he conceded. “Though, you have inhibited selflessness and strength of character recently.”

“It was nothing,” I mumbled.

His brows furrowed. “’Nothing?’ Stark and his friends would have been decimated and the battle lost if he had not regained full control of his suit! And even if he and his friends would have prevailed, it would have not been before hundreds more lost their lives!”

“Oh for god’s sake, it was just inserting a chip into a computer, most of which I don’t even remember!”

His frown deepened. “Why do you have trouble accepting gratitude and compliments?”

“Because I was lucky!” I insisted. “It’s all sheer, dumb luck. It’s luck _I_ was the one Stark – Tony – called. It’s luck I didn’t get shot like Daniel, who actually knew what he was doing in the first place! I am lucky that the Hulk stormed in before that Zola or whatever the heck his name is, his… his…” I breathed deeply and continued, “ _algorithm_ , yeah, before that completed. Not that I was ever going to pop on it, hah, but if I had and the Hulk hadn’t appeared, I would’ve been executed and don’t deny it, Loki, neither you nor Robson would’ve stepped in for me then, even if you both were on the good side.”

I looked at his face carefully and there was no sign of denial. A foolish part of me had hoped he would prove me wrong, but I continued, “So, yeah, I was lucky the Hulk appeared and I didn’t get shot, I am lucky that Tony Stark has taken such interest in my welfare and I’m lucky he likes me and I’m lucky to have got this job in the first place! I would _never_ have got this job if I hadn’t come to that damn party. All I am is lucky!”

I was shaking by the time I’d finished my rant. “Get me some water,” I said, more brusquely than I should have. “Please. Some water, please,” I amended, softly.

He did so without murmur. I drained the glass but kept clutching on to it, studying the drops sliding to the bottom as if it was the most interesting thing ever.

After long last, he spoke. “Maybe it is luck how you got your opportunities,” he said, carefully choosing his words as always.

It was one of the things that I _did_ like about him. He always chose the right words and the right cadence. His speech was always eloquent and it was part of why I was so embarrassed about the damage to my speech. Nothing I ever said or wrote would be as well-crafted, so how could I keep up with him when I couldn’t even remember what I had wanted to say?

He continued, “But it is not luck how well you made use of them. And maybe, it was luck you were there to help Stark, but you could have refused. You were in excruciating pain, you could have just said no and waited, but you did not.”

“I was crying and whining like a bitch all the while,” I grumbled.

“Stop interrupting me, Midgardian. You may converse openly with me, but you will not speak over me.”

He subjected me to his glare for another few seconds before continuing.

“You complained, but still you did it. Heroism is not about fighting epic wars and championing the cause of the downtrodden. It is not about pretty words and songs and rushing headfirst into battle and swinging your sword or hammer to mow down your enemies. It is not about being a warrior with bulging muscles and charging into enemy lines with no care. 

“Heroism,” he said, as his knuckles brushed against my injured knee, “is about enduring, playing the long game and finding a way. Or rather, that is what heroism _should_ be. Or perhaps, this is not heroism at all. This is merely doing what needs to be done. Do you understand?” he insisted.

His eyes were full of desperation the likes of which I had never seen. Even when he had pleaded with me to not quit and come back after that outfitting, he had never shown such raw emotion. Those words were prepared and clipped. He had meant them, but he had only infused emotion into them once he had realised I wasn’t going to cave. But now, when he had nothing to convince me of, nothing to woo me for, he had revealed a big part of himself.

I might have subconsciously pieced it together, but I had never actually realised that Loki was jealous of Thor. No, jealousy was a childish emotion. Even resentment didn’t cover it, for I knew, both when he had conceded to Thor about not slicing my throat (how far ago it seemed now!) and when he saved his and Jane’s life, that Loki cared for his brother. Perhaps there was no word for this.

Thor received all the adulation here on Earth – rightly so, because why would anyone fawn over a would-be tyrant? But had it always been this way? Had Loki spent a millennia being ignored and unvalued because he prized words and strategy over open attack, the same way he had chosen to wheedle information out of Robson rather than outright refuse to fight? I couldn’t even imagine the kind of ugliness millennia of not being appreciated and being dismissed at every turn could foster. It did not excuse his any of his actions and behaviour – but it certainly explained them.

“I understand,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “ _I understand_.”

He stared at me, probing. Then, he let out a short chuckle. “Of course you do. I know you do.”

I sighed. “And, well, you’ve been right about me trying to impress people. I did it partly because _Tony_ asked me, because I wanted to make him proud, and you’re right, it’s excessive and I need to stop. But, well, there’s another reason. I was upset with you. 

“Of course I didn’t know otherwise then, but at that time, I thought you’d betrayed us and I was so angry. I wanted to make things even. I wanted to get back at you in any way I could. Yeah, I wanted to save people and lives and do good, but I also wanted to do it to spite you. I’m not really a hero,” I finished ashamedly.

This is the sort of thing you never confessed to anyone, leave alone your saviour, but I knew that Loki would take it objectively, because he too operated like that.

“Neither am I.”

“Duh.” He looked bemused so I amended, “Obviously.”

“Like I told you, spite is more powerful a motivator than you give it credit for and I think you have understood that for yourself now. I can see it in you. You never think you are worthy of anything. You want to be loved and recognised. And yes, I genuinely believe you want to do good, however ‘good’ may be defined. Most people do not have the will to follow through when they make a threat, but _you_ ,” he said, sounding almost… excited, “you will act on it if you feel strongly. You would never be able to kill me or outsmart me, but I know it will not be for lack of trying. You will fail, but you will do whatever it takes to make me bleed. I would have never expected this from most mortals, but now I can say for sure that _you_ would. You fight for others just like you fight for yourself and I would not issue you a challenge in jest, my little Valkyrie.”

I did not fully understand that title, but that was not what intrigued me currently. It was the manic intensity that shone in his eyes that entranced me. It lured me in as much as it terrified me. I wanted to bask in it but I was scared I would not be able to handle such… sentiment.

His eyes looked greener in the darkness and bluer in the light, but now, all that mattered was the fire in them. Darkness fell over one half of his profile. The light from the night lamp danced over the other half as if it was made just to complement his visage. My breath caught in my chest as I was hit by a very important and painfully obvious realisation for the first time – he was _beautiful_. Not just handsome and not just strong, but beautiful. He had said he had a glorious purpose, but he had forgotten to mention that it was _he_ who was truly glorious.

I don’t know what emotion reflected on my face – which he seemed to be studying as hungrily as I was studying his – but it was enough to startle him out of whatever had possessed him.

“You should sleep,” he said gruffly and moved off the bed, his fingers leaving my knee.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice unexpectedly hoarse. “I’m too keyed up.”

There was an awkward silence. This was going to end badly if I didn’t defuse the tension. We needed to segue back into the quiet companionship.

“Could you get me the colouring books and crayons, please?”

He looked at me incredulously. “You would idle with the trinkets that the boy brought you in favour of rest?”

“Yes, please.”

He rolled his eyes but went to fetch the things. He flung them at me and I flung the good vibes book back at him. It hit him on the back. He turned around, snarling.

“Oops! I’m sorry!” I squeaked. “Sorry, really! I just meant to give you the book.”

“Why?” he snapped.

“So that you can colour it as well?” I said, as innocently as possible.

“Do you think me to be a child?”

“Of course not. See? The book is meant for adults. It says so on the top.”

“I have no interest in this petty activity.”

“You told me you were bored of reading anyway. Don’t you want to try something new? Something different?”

He was muttering under his breath.

“Oh, come on! It’s fun!” I chimed. “And it’s relaxing! Just give it a try, please. Please?” I pleaded, trying to look at helpless and innocent as possible.

The muttering intensified. Just as I thought he was going to go back to sleep or reading, he picked up the book and marched over to me.

“I need the colouring pencils,” he said sourly.

I squeaked in delight and fumbled with the packet. I took out three colours and held out the rest of the pack to him. He searched through the packet, frown deepening as he held up the colours and examined them.

Finally, he asked, “I do not see any green, gold and black here.”

I showed him the three crayons that I’d taken out. “I’m keeping them because you really need to use some other colours for a change.”

He tried to lunge for the colours but I held them out to the other side. “Give me the pencils, little Valkyrie.”

I couldn’t help but focus on what a beautiful voice he had. It was deep – but not too deep. It was low and expressive with an occasional hint of rawness that provided a wonderful contrast to the smoothness.

“What does it mean? Valkyrie?” I whispered, hating the sound of my own voice.

He leaned closer, eyes locking into mine and fingers slowly inching towards my own. “Give me the pencils and I will tell you.”

For the first time in the time I’d known him, I wanted to hear him talk more. “No,” I shuddered.

A mischievous smile formed on his lips. “No?”

“No.”

“Very well, little Valkyrie,” he emphasised the moniker and retreated, heading back to his chair with some colours and the book in hand.

I stared at him, half-relieved and half-stricken that he’d moved away. It was a while before I could concentrate on my colouring – and surreptitiously watch him concentrate on his.

An hour or so later, when I was much more relaxed and thankfully detoxed of whatever feelings had taken hold of me, I said, “Please be nicer to Daniel. He’s my friend.”

Loki scoffed. “He wants to be more than your friend.”

“Thank god,” I laughed. “I was worried it was just me.”

He held the crayon tighter. “Just you?”

“Just me who was interested.”

I could see his grip tighten further on the poor crayon. “Don’t tell me you are interested in someone as insipid and soft as him.”

“He’s cute, he’s nerdy, he’s nice. I dig it,” I said, working hard to sound casual and not defensive.

“Is that all you are looking for?” He asked, the judgement evident in his voice.

“What? I’m not looking for a soulmate. And, as I recall,” I said pointedly, “neither were you.”  –

The crayon snapped. “ _Midgardian_ ,” he began.

“Okay, let’s not discuss each other’s romantic lives, alright? And please stop killing my crayons.”

We went back to our colouring, he in a significantly darker mood, but I was relieved that we’d gone back to a version of our old dynamic, minus the outright hostility. The colouring relaxed my brain and let me think over our conversation and new questions: would I ever be able to forgive Loki? Did I even want to? Was I capable of being so forgiving? And what was this odd tenderness that we were showing each other? Dared I even call it ‘tenderness?’ I fell asleep midway through colouring and contemplation and woke up to find the books kept away, the colours in their original spot, my bed lowered, my blanket thrown over me, and no sign of Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, so do let me know what you thought! Did you like the tension? Did the sparks between them feel right? Do you like where their relationship is going? 
> 
> 2\. I *might* not be able to get up a chapter next Friday around the usual time, since I will have a take-home midterm. But I'll try for later in the day, or even Saturday. 
> 
> 3\. Loki looks a little crazed in the gif, but the line and the intensity kind of go with the vibe of this chapter, right?
> 
> 4\. Can you guys tell I've been living for 4 years in MA? I'm both proud and ashamed of that Needham pun.
> 
> 5\. I want to clarify: I will NOT be including a Loki POV in this work. It will be a separate work. This is Reader/Scandal's story, and it will remain hers. Most of you have said you'd like a POV on turning points in their relationship. I'm too lazy to identify them myself (I end up making a case for every little point in this story) so I will be taking requests on Tumblr. Send me in your requests for points you want to see written! :D


	26. That Time We Did Community Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make the best of your unfortunate stint at the hospital. Read this chapter on [ Tumblr.](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/182987623307/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-26)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early week 3 in the hospital. Previous chapter happened around 4 days ago.

An empty mind is the devil’s workshop, but mine hadn’t been idle, for the God of Mischief had taken residence in my brain. Said God of Mischief was currently supremely displeased with me.

“Why have you given up your private room?” he asked. “Stark was paying for it so that you may recover in peace.” 

I had requested to be moved out into the general ward four days ago. Loki’s visits had abruptly stopped after that conversation after my nightmare. The optimistic part of me wanted to believe that he’d dropped by when I was asleep, but I knew that in reality, he had not come at all. I replayed our conversation over and over again, until I got so flustered with confusion and frustration and utter boredom that I started snapping at everyone who came to visit me. My conscience had also not warmed up to the idea of Tony paying for that private room when there were so many other people who had greater need of it. The room had steadily started feeling claustrophobic as my nightmares became more intense and frequent. After waking up yet another night crying after I’d dreamed of endless stairs and endless falling, with no Loki to comfort me, I had decided I needed a change of scenery.

“I don’t need it anymore. The worst of my concussion is gone, my leg is better and there are other people who need the room more,” I said as I messily ate a peach. “Could you pass me another peach, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

He rolled his eyes and threw a peach into my lap.

“Thanks.”

“Besides,” he continued sourly, “Stark had requested that room because he knew I would be visiting and he had decided to insulate the hospital from my presence as much as possible.” 

I shrugged and wiped the juice from my mouth, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Yeah and you stopped coming.”

“As you can see,” he said pointedly, “I am here now.”

 _Yeah, after you left me alone for four days,_ I thought petulantly. “I didn’t know for sure, okay? I thought now that I was becoming better, you’d be okay with not coming in! Besides, you said you were getting bored!”

“Are you pretending to be an imbecile or are you actually one?”

“Hey!” I tried to nudge his leg lightly with my toe, but I couldn’t reach anywhere close.

He pushed my foot back where it belonged. “Well, now that we have established I am visiting you, I will tell the doctors to put you back in your appointed room.”

“Nope.”

“Are you telling me what to do, little mortal?”

“Nope,” I tossed the seeds into the bin next to me, “I’m not. You can go threaten whoever you like but you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming back to that room.”

“I can always make you fall asleep while we are transporting you.”

I hit my fist against the bed. “Please.”

“Why do you even want to be sleeping with dozens of other people in your room? I see enough to know that here, your meals are delivered too early or too late. You have to wait for much longer before someone comes to assist you with your morning rituals. Why do you not want to go back to your room?”

“Because I’m bored! I’m tired of lying on my back all day! I’m tired of seeing those same four walls twenty-four-seven! I’m sick of just lying around helpless and useless! I’m sick to my teeth! I want to get up! At least, over here, I can see people milling around and observe them, if nothing else!”

“It has only been two weeks. It is nothing.”

“It is _everything_ ,” I said, melodramatically.

“You are being difficult,” Loki said.

“No.”

“Yes. Now,” he handed me the last of the peaches, “eat the last of your fruit.”

“No,” I huffed.

“Yes.”

“I’m full.”

“Have you looked at yourself? The skin under your eyes is darker than ever and your face looks sunken. You are wasting away. Eat.”

“No.”

“Eat, or I will force-feed you.”

I had no doubt he would, so I took the peach and ate it. “The food’s not the reason,” I sniffed. 

“For your weakness?”

I sighed, then decided to confide. What did I have to lose? “It’s the nightmares. I’ve been having one every time I rest. And that’s also why I wanted to move rooms, because I hated waking up all alone in the dark.”

I bit my lip, fearing I’d said too much. He looked at me oddly, but said nothing. I don’t know why I felt hurt at his non-reaction.

Finally, when I was done, he said, “Good girl. Now, do you need assistance using the bathroom?”

I flushed. Did I want to go pee? Yes. Did I want to wait till one of the nurses came? No. Did I want Loki of Asgard to take me to the bathroom? Also no.

“Um… no. No thank you,” I mumbled.

He cocked an eyebrow. “This is the time you would usually go to the bathroom. What is the concern?”

My eyes widened. Trust him to keep track of such minor information. “I’ll call the nurses.”

“They will take some time to come. I can help you.”

My face heated up further. “You don’t have to.”

He frowned. “No, but _you_ have to. It is settled, then.”

He stood up and walked around to the other side to help me get up. I twitched when his hand flattened itself against my back and he froze.

“Do you still fear my touch?” he whispered, his head to the side of mine, separated by only a few inches.

“No… no…” I shivered. “I…” I licked my lips, “you… you have better things to do.” 

“Ah,” he drawled, his fingers splaying wider against my back, lightheartedness creeping into his voice. “you fear for your modesty.”

“Um, yes, but –”

“I have lived for over a millennium. I have seen sights more compromising than an injured woman using the chamber pot, but I had no intention of watching that anyway. I will take you and help you settle down, then I will exit and I will bring you back to your bed when you are ready.”

I squirmed in embarrassment, no less mortified. “Honestly, you really don’t have to…”

“Come on,” he whispered, muttering my name, his breath tickling my ear. The hand on my back had reached over to my left shoulder and his other hand was on the bed, right next to my thigh. “Give me a chance. Let me be good to you.”

I took in a deep breath. I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded, unwilling to look at him. He pulled back into a more appropriate distance and helped me down ever so gently. He let me put most of my weight on him and half-carried, half-walked me to the bathroom. Wordlessly, he arranged me on the toilet and walked out, shutting the door behind him. It was silly, but I tried to stifle the sound of my peeing to protect whatever tiny shred of modesty I had. I knocked against the door once I was good and he promptly came in. Our walk back to the bed went the same way, except this time, instead of merely helping me on to the bed, he lifted me in his arms. Before I could do anything more than clutch his arm, he had softly deposited me on the bed. He made sure my leg and arm weren’t destabilised and fussily adjusted the blankets. When he was done, he leaned close to me, one arm on the pillow, slightly above my head and the other still holding the blanket, above my sternum.

“Would your Midgardian boy have done this for you?”

I had been looking everywhere but at him, but at that question, my eyes flicked back to his. Mirth and smugness bubbled in his eyes.

“Is that why you did it?” I snapped, irrationally peeved for some reason. 

“No,” he smiled. “Not at all. But I do have to ask: would _Dan_ have done this for you?”

“Yeah,” I said defiantly, “if I’d asked him to!”

“But not without you asking him to, yes?”

I hesitated for a moment too long. 

“No, he would not have,” he said quietly. “Good night, little Valkyrie.”

I didn’t have any nightmares that night.

* * *

“I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Loki said, idly as he read his book, “we have already established that.”

He was back in his old chair in my old room. He had bullied the staff into transferring me back. For the first time ever, Tony had sided with him, both of them turning a deaf ear to my protests. Presently, I chewed my lip, anxiously running through the thousand and one reasons why I shouldn’t blurt out what I wanted to say. The idea had been forming in my head over the past few days. I watched Loki. He flicked the page with a little more force than necessary and I could see a slight frown on his face. The frown deepened over the course of the next few minutes until:

“What?” Loki snapped, looking up.

“I want to do PR,” I blurted.

“What?”

“PR. I want to do PR.”

He glared at me. “I heard you the first time. How by the Yggdrasil are you going to do PR here?”

I might as well roll with it. “You saved the city –”

“I destroyed it as well.”

“Yes, I know, thanks. As I was saying, you saved the city and a lot of people in this hospital are alive because of you – but they don’t know that. And the outside world is going batshit crazy! There are a dozen investigations going on about HYDRA and SHIELD, but soon enough they’re going to come back to you! Tony let you stay here without informing the public – with _SHIELD_ ’s consent. You’re going to be chewed alive!”

He rolled his eyes. “Spare me your dramatics. I do not care about petty Midgardian politics and there is no one on this planet who can do anything to threaten me.”

“Yes, but everyone deserves to know _you_ saved them!”

“I do not think anyone cares, or would want to care, to see the destroyer of their city be painted as their saviour.”

“They _will_. You need to give them a chance. Come on, come here,” I beckoned him. “Please?”

“You are becoming far too bossy for your own good, woman,” he grumbled, but did as I requested. He sat next to my left leg, his fingers brushing against my knee. “This behaviour will cease the second you are allowed to leave the hospital, believe you me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said coolly. “Loki,” I said, much more sweetly, trying to look as wide-eyed and innocent as possible, “don’t you want people to know you saved them? Don’t you want their thanks? Don’t you want puny Midgardians falling over themselves to express their adoration and gratitude?”

“Your glib words and promises will get you nowhere. And I have no need for gratitude and adoration. I am a god. I do not need petty mortal sentiments to stoke my ego.”

“But,” I said carefully, watching my fingers inch of their own accord towards his and brush against them (he did not flinch), “you do need to show yourself to be a good king.”

His fingers drew back slightly. His voice was toneless as he said, “Do not presume yourself to be all-knowing, little mortal.”

“It’s your words, not mine,” I said, drawing back my fingers. Almost immediately, his slid back into place. I sighed and finally looked up, “I’m just trying to do my job, you know. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You have been temporarily excused from your duties till you are well again.”

“The Citi never sleeps,” I chuckled. “All I need is my brain for this job. Please, Loki,” I said, leaning as far forward as I could without bending any of my limbs, “it’s good for you and me. What’s the problem?” 

“The problem is that you are supposed to rest.”

My lips quivered and I finally burst, “But I can’t! I can’t rest anymore! I can’t stay in bed like this! I need to – I need to do something. I need to get away from hospitals and political intrigue and treason and hostage situations! I need to go back to doing what I know I can do, the only thing that I _can_ do! I feel so out of control and helpless, Loki. I can’t use my body – at least let me use my brain! I want to take on a challenge because I have a decent shot at it, not because I have no other choice. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at me for long. The eerie feeling I’d got four nights ago returned, just as strong and sweet as before. Finally, he got off the bed and went back to his chair. “Fine. I will indulge you, if only just to make you realise the folly of this endeavour.”

“Yay!” I chirped, but he ignored me.

I did my research over the next few days. I bounced the idea off Tony and Stella, who was back in action. As I had expected, Tony had a lot to say, but eventually, we managed to convince him that it was a good idea – especially for him, since he too would be facing flak for hiding Loki away. He and Stella managed to win the hospital director’s rather reluctant approval, after gentle promises and a staunch refusal to take a ‘no.’ And then, we were ready to roll.

* * *

 “What is _he_ doing here?” Loki asked about Thor.

“He’s here to introduce you to the patients,” I said. Thor had been working hard to help restore the city, but was always more than willing to help out with his brother.

“Yes, Lady Scandal said an endorsement from an influential figure is a good strategy to shape public opinion,” Thor explained and beamed at me. I beamed back.

“So what is the point of asking me to come if all you want to do is solicit attention for my brother?” Loki growled. “That is precisely what will happen once he steps inside any room.”

“No, it won’t,” I said. “Thor will just say, ‘This is my brother, Loki of Asgard. He saved your life three weeks ago’ and he will stand back. Then, it’s up to you to win them over. Here,” I tore off a page from my notebook and handed it to Loki, “this is what you should say and do.”

His eyes raced across the page. Once he was done, he held up the paper and said, “’Create illusions?’ What do you think I am, a wet nurse?”

“What’s the problem? You can create illusions and clones of yourself. Why can’t you create a little butterfly or something? Or a flower for a lady? Don’t they teach chivalry at Asgard?”

“If you want chivalry, then ask my brother. I do not have time for such frivolities.”

Thor guffawed. “Do not believe a word he says. I have seen him spend months practicing his illusions so that he may impress Lady Amora.”

“Thor!” Loki growled.

“Amora?” I snapped, inexplicably incensed, “Who is Amora?”

“Not another word, you witless oaf!”

Thor only laughed harder. “Lady Amora is a sorceress from Nornheim. She is one of the most powerful seiðr-wielders in the Nine Realms. Loki admired her for her powers, but I think he was enchanted by sorcery of another kind,” he finished roguishly.

“Oh, you do love going down the memory lane, do you not?” Loki asked with a vulpine smile. “Shall we relive that memory when you woke up with your head entirely shorn?”

Thor’s eyes widened. “It is but a jest, Loki.”

“As were the months you spent wandering in search of your _glorious_ mane.”

“If you –”

“Okay, enough!” I snapped. Usually, I watched the brothers’ shenanigans with a tub of popcorn, but I wasn’t in the mood for it today. I put it down to my eagerness to get to work. “Now is one of you going to help me down from the bed or do I need to phone a friend?”

Before Thor could come closer, Loki had marched over to the other side of the best, pushed him away and gruffly seized me and settled me on the ground, muttering dark curses under his breath all the while. He adjusted my hold over the crutches and I hobbled forward, but slipped. Before I could fall, however, Loki steadied me and held me against his side.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just need to adjust. I know you don’t like –”

“It is fine. You are injured.”

“You can move away; I think I can –”

“No.”

“It’s okay, someone else can –”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, I can –”

“Norns, woman, do you want to go do your work or not?”

“Okay, okay, yeah, my papers –”

He reached over and picked them up with a huff, then chucked them at Thor. Before I could study Thor’s reaction, Loki began half-carrying, half-supporting me to our first stop. Most of the hospital staff were sending panicked glances at Loki, fully aware of his identity. Some of the civilians – families, friends, patients – ignored us. A few of them gaped at Loki, on the verge of recognising him, but unable to fully place him. Some of them gaped or drooled at the sight of Thor. A lot of them, however, I realised with shock, were actually staring at me. I must have looked odd: a weak, ordinary, puny girl flanked by the God of Thunder on her left and supported on the right by an equally regal and majestic man.

Neither Thor nor Loki looked the slightest bit impatient at my snail pace. We made our way slowly down the halls till we reached the first room.

“Sam Jenkins,” Thor read from my file. “Had a metal frame collapse on his leg while he was trying to escape.”

Loki inhaled and I looked at him. “What happened?”

“I remember. I pulled out the shrapnel and stemmed the flow of blow and corrected some damage to the nerves. I could not completely eliminate it.”

“It’s okay, you did the best you could in that time.”

“She is right, brother. You did well.”

“Yes, thank you for the seal of approval, Thor. It is what I needed.”

I looked at Loki then at the door, asking him to open it. He remained still.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I am not sure this is the best idea.”

He almost sounded nervous. He did not fidget, but his grip around me had tightened. He was not trying to buy time or dismiss my idea; he was truly apprehensive about something.

“Why not?” I asked gently.

“What if I hurt them?” he asked, his voice catching ever so slightly. “Two years ago. What if I hurt them?”

Thor shifted, but I paid him no heed. “No, you didn’t. I did my research and selected only the… people who should be visited.”

He looked down at me. “What if someone he knows died or was hurt?” he asked harshly.

“I made sure to select the people who are not connected.”

He scoffed and looked away. “Even so. They were all there. They all saw what happened. They all saw what I did and now you ask me to march in there and entertain them as if everything was fine. Is this the redemption you offer? Pretending as if nothing went wrong?”

“No, but I am asking you to be open. Be genuine. They know the bad you are capable of. Now, they need to know the good you’re capable of. You need to open yourself up to them. I’m not asking you to apologise to them, but I am asking you to listen to whatever they say. Can you do that?”

He looked back at me, eyes glinting with a myriad of emotions. “And you think this will solve anything?”

“No,” I said and pressed myself ever so slightly closer to him, “but it is a start.”

He peered at me intently for a few seconds, then turned back to the door. “Open the door, Thor,” he ordered. 

“We should knock first,” I muttered.

“Knock on the door, Thor.”

Thor’s mouth quirked and he carefully stepped in front of us. He knocked on the door and a muffled voice gave permission. Thor stepped in, the two of us following. I couldn’t see the expression of the inhabitants from behind the hulking mass of Thor, but I did hear the audible gasp.

“I… what… oh my _god_ , Sam, _look_!” a woman gasped.

“What the…” Sam trailed off.

“Hello,” Thor said after Loki and I had found a place to stand. “I am Thor. This is my brother, Loki of Asgard. He saved your life, Sam Jenkins, three weeks ago.”

Sam and the woman, presumably his wife, merely gaped, looking from Thor to Loki and back at Thor. Loki stared them down. With a wave of his hand, he conjured a chair. The two occupants shrieked in surprise, but Loki paid them no heed. He plonked me into the chair then stepped closer to the bed. Even from a distance I could make out Sam was trembling, but did not have the guts to say anything.

“I am Loki of Asgard,” he declared, “I pulled the shrapnel from your limb and stemmed the flow of blood. I prevented infection from setting in and reversed some of the damage to your nerves. Do you remember?”

Sam’s entire body shook along with his head as he said, “No, no. I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Do you need anything?” 

“No, no!”

Loki appraised him. “You look dehydrated, man. You need to drink more water. Sit up.”

He pressed the button on the side to raise the back of the bed. He snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared in his hand. The couple’s eyes widened even further at this display of magic.

Loki handed Sam the glass. “Drink.”

Sam had no choice but to obey. He gulped down the water in two seconds flat and clutched the glass to his chest. As soon as he was done, Loki snapped his fingers again and the glass vanished, leaving Sam clutching thin air.

Loki looked to the wife. “You will make sure he drinks enough water.”

She nodded furiously. “Yes, yes, sir,” she squeaked.

Loki kept looking at her for a few moments. Then, in a slightly less stiff tone he said, “You have been sleeping for the past few weeks in that uncomfortable chair. I can empathise; I have been suffering the same.”

He snapped his fingers again and then the ugly, uncomfortable chair turned into a plush green and gold variant. With a final sharp nod at the duo, he marched over to me, lifted me up and tugged me out of the room. Thor followed suit, shutting the door behind him. Once outside, Loki walked on without paying heed to where he was going. I could sense the discomfiture radiating off him. Only when Thor called out his name did he stop.

“Brother,” he said when he caught up to us, “you did well.”

He didn’t say anything or react in anyway, but I fancied Loki sought my approval. “He’s right. That was good. Clean, simple, not drawn out. And making a chair for her was a really nice touch.”

I supposed I was right, for he exhaled and somewhat relaxed. “Very well. What is next?”

Before I could answer, two girls and a guy came up to us. They looked around my age.

“Um, sorry, hi,” one of the girls began, “you’re Thor, right?”

“Yes, it is I, Thor Odinson,” Thor smiled.

The girls squealed. The guy looked amazed too, but he was staring off to Thor’s right at Loki.

“Excuse me…” he said very politely, “sorry if I am wrong… but… are you Loki?”

I could tell the question and the directness had surprised him. “Yes, I am,” he replied.

The girls looked at us unsurely.

“See? I told you two!” the guy said to his friends, “I told you it was Loki!” He turned back to Loki. “I’m sorry, but could we take a photo with both of you? Please?”

“Seth…” one of the girls muttered.

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted a photo with Thor and I want one with Loki. This way we all get what we want! Can we take a photo?” Seth asked again.

Thor, used to fans asking for photographs and autographs, happily said, “Absolutely, my friends.”

Seth waited for Loki’s permission. Fortunately, he did not disappoint. He nodded and Seth excitedly gave his thanks. Then, he looked at me, trying to make sense of who I was.

“Oh, I’m not anyone famous,” I laughed. “Loki saved me in the attack three weeks ago, like he did with a lot of other patients. He shielded me from a crashing helicopter and helped repair some of the damage to my knee.”

“Oh, wow,” Seth muttered, impressed and intrigued. “You can be in the photo too, if you like.”

“Oh, no, no,” I laughed awkwardly. “I can take the photo though.”

“Come on, my lady,” Thor said, “the photo will look all the more a work of art with you in it.”

One of the girls blushed madly and I wasn’t too far off. “’Work of art?’ Seriously? Look at me! I’m in a hospital gown. I look hideous.”

“No, you do not,” Loki said.

He waved his hand and a golden glow appeared over my body. There was a light hum and slowly, the golden light took the form of one of the sundresses my mother had left for me.

Seth and the girls gasped, impressed and awed. I could feel the dress against my skin, but I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, wonder and childlike joy dancing in my eyes.

“You are welcome,” he said, sounding pleased. I imagined I could see the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. “Now, you can be in the photo as well. And, no,” he added, seeing me ready to launch a protest, “you will not take the photo. You can barely manage your crutches as it is.”

I sulked, but couldn’t deny he was right. We arranged ourselves for the photo. Loki’s arm tentatively wrapped around my waist, but his hand did not touch my body.

“Sweet!” Seth exclaimed. “This is _so_ going on the internet!”

“Use Loki of Asgard in the hashtag,” I butt in.

Seth nodded.

“That was really cool what you did with your magic,” one of the girls shyly chimed in. “With the dress. Sorry, I’m Ciara.”

Loki acknowledged her with a tilt of his head.

“I was really worried at first, but Seth was right,” Ciara said. “We have a friend who was injured in the attack. We are visiting her, in fact. If you’re – if you’re up to it, would you like to come see her? I think she’d like that.”

Thor and I looked at Loki. If he was surprised we were deferring to him, he didn’t let it on. Instead, he remarked crisply, “We will visit her.”

The trio’s friend was much more subdued than her friends, but less terrified than the Jenkins. She looked less than ecstatic at the sight of Loki, but he knew better than to try to win her over. She wasn’t one of the people he had helped, but he enquired after her welfare and left her with a brooch in the style of his trademark helmet.

We followed the same routine with the rest of the patients on my list. The patients and their families received us with varying levels of terror, disquiet and curiosity. The worst was the case of one woman screaming so loud that her screams could be heard in the other rooms. Loki was not shaken, but it was clear that incident did nothing to reassure him, even if it was the only one of its kind. Even so, he did remarkably well. He didn’t dawdle or make over-the-top gestures. He was subtle and thoughtful. Withering flowers were replaced with bouquets of fresh ones, paper-thin blankets were substituted with warm, soft ones, empty bowls filled with fruits and so on. Finally, we reached the last name of the day.

“Matthew Robson,” Thor recited outside the ICU.

Immediately, Loki’s visage hardened. “No.”

“Yes. Please,” I begged.

“ _No_ ,” he rumbled and for the first time in a long time, I saw the glacial and ruthless side of the God of Mischief.

“Loki –” Thor interjected.

“This does not concern you,” Loki said sharply, staring down Thor till the latter looked away.

“Let him speak!” I squawked.

Thor had hardly opened his mouth when Loki snarled, “This is between me and her. Leave us.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Thor, stay!”

“My lady,” Thor began, looking at me uncertainly, “perhaps it is for the best if I leave. I will be back.”

“No!” I cried, oblivious to the scene the three of us must be making. “Thor, come back!” I tried to hobble after him, but Loki wasn’t letting me go anywhere.

“Do not worry, I will be back,” he said before he walked off.

I rounded on Loki. “What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with _you_?” Loki hissed back. “Trying to save the life of the man who is responsible for this in the first place!”

“You said it yourself! You said he was a double agent fighting against HYDRA from within!”

“He is the reason you are in this condition!”

“No, the Hulk is the reason I am in this condition!”

“If the Hulk had not come in, Robson would have let you be executed!”

“That’s hardly any different from what you would’ve done! Get off your high horse and admit it, Loki. You would have let them kill me if it meant you could get away with your plans!”

His eyes widened in shock. It was a comical look for someone who was always two steps ahead and thus, was never taken unaware. However, it didn’t take long for the shock to be replaced by cold fury as he seized me close to him by my arm, all traces of tenderness and carefulness gone.

“Do you really think that? Do you _truly_ think that?” he spat.

My teeth chattered as I wheezed, “Yes. No. I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“You _wretched_ , _ungrateful_ mortal,” he whispered harshly, “I should break your other arm and shatter your other knee and leave you right here.”

“That,” I said, teeth still chattering, “will undo all our work today.”

“Do you think I care about that?” he stopped shaking me and pulled me in even closer.

“Yes,” I whispered, having to crane up my neck to look at him, “yes you do. I saw how you listened to them and remembered their faces. I saw how you thought hard before leaving them with a token. I saw how much you did care, even though you wanted to pretend you didn’t.”

He was panting heavily. “Then why do you think I do not care enough to try to bargain for your life?”

“I… I don’t know,” I finished, realising I had no good answer.

He pushed me away so that we were standing at a more natural distance. “If I could look out for mortals whom I had known for all of two minutes, why would I not have looked out for one whom I have known for two months – now three?”

“I don’t know…” 

“ _No_ ,” he said sharply, pulling me closer again. “You _will_ answer me this time, Midgardian. You will confront your inability and unwillingness to trust me. I have apologised to you, I have saved you and I have watched over you for weeks. I refuse to make further efforts to win you over unless I have the assurance that you are ready to accept my gestures.”

He was right. Whatever he had done in the past, he was making up for it. I couldn’t keep placing him at arms’ length while at the same time, expecting him to keep doing more and more for me. But still…

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m very sorry. You’re right.”

His face softened immeasurably. “I do not need your apologies, little one. I need you to give me a chance. I need you to trust me just as I have trusted you, however tentatively. I make no excuses for my conduct in the past, but I cannot keep paying for them.”

“You’re right,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

His free hand came between us, close to my chin, but never touching it. “Look up,” he ordered gently.

I did. If the intensity in his eyes had thrilled and scared me five days ago, then the emotion today almost made my knees gave way. I had never thought it was possible to look charged and soft at the same time, but he made it possible. There was an impassioned tenderness in his eyes the likes of which I had never seen before.

“I would have done whatever it took to bargain for your life – not just because I was able to, but because I _wanted_ to.”

That was the thing about him. You could never tell when he was telling the truth – for telling the truth was his greatest trick. Yet, I also knew that to find out if you could trust someone, you had to trust them. That is why, I said:

“I believe you.”

He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t entirely successful. That sharp intake of breath and the briefest flutter of his eyelids gave him away. I was amazed at the effect that my words had had on him, but before I could ponder further, he straightened and the mask slipped back on.

“Good,” he said, his hand coming up to my shoulder, thumb lightly stroking me, “good.”

“Now,” I cleared my throat, eager to do away with this strange mood that had fallen on us, “please. Heal him.”

“You care about him,” he muttered, his thumb making more deliberate strokes now.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“No, you do not understand what I mean. You do not just care about him – or any of the others – because you think it is the right thing to do. You do not just care about them because it is your job to make me look good. You genuinely care.”

I squirmed in place. He was giving me too much credit. I doubted I would have cared this much if it was anyone other than Robson. “Will you heal him, please? He is critical.”

“What will I get in return?”

My blood ran cold. Surely he did not mean to strike another deal.

“Shh, shh,” he consoled, sensing my turmoil, “I will not ask you anything as damning as I asked you the night of the party. You may refuse, but if you accept, it will be a show of good faith. I will believe you that you believe me. You see, _you_ are a kind and caring person, but I am not.”

“Wh-what do you want?”

“A smile.” I frowned, but he went on, “A smile. A heartfelt smile, the kinds of which you always have for that mortal Dan, but never have for me.”

Of all the things I had expected him to ask of me, this had not been it. Was a smile truly all that he wanted? Was there some catch that my human brain was unable to figure out? It didn’t seem so, for he was merely looking at me expectantly. Still, I hated the idea of smiling on order.

“How can it be heartfelt if you’re telling to smile?”

“You can pretend you are looking at him. Your Dan,” he said bitterly.

“He’s not mine. Besides, that’s stupid,” I mumbled. “Say something funny at least.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Of course, he wanted me to put in all the effort without doing anything himself. Typical. I smoothened the frown off my face and plastered a tentative smile on my face, thinking of Dan. It fooled nobody. Loki looked disappointed, but gave a small nod.

But I wanted to do better. Dan’s face vanished from my mind as I stared into Loki’s eyes. They looked blue under the sterile white light. To my surprise, I found laughter lines around them. How strange, I thought, for such a stern man – god – to have such tangible evidence of merry times etched on his face. Had he always been like this? Or was there a time that he laughed a lot? What would his laugh be like? I wanted to see him laugh.

“This man is the nastiest skank I have ever met,” he suddenly said.

I blinked, completely confused. Then, I remembered it was a Mean Girls’ quote. And then, I remembered I’d called Loki a skank in my resignation letter. And, then when I wrapped my head the impossibility of this walking-talking medieval dictionary speaking 21st century lingo, my lips arched impossibly high, looking at him with no small amount of joy. His lips parted, clearly surprised – and parted even further when I started laughing. I laughed hard, harder than I had in all too long, so hard that tears started pouring out of my eyes. It was not _that_ funny, but it seemed the funniest thing in the world right now. Loki’s grin stretched from ear to ear, clearly pleased that not only had I given him what he wanted, but that I had delivered so well.

“Beautiful,” he muttered and looked surprised, almost as if he hadn’t intended to say it. I found myself unable to look at him anymore. “I will heal Robson, but first, I will escort you back to your bed. You have been standing upright for far too long.”

I let him guide me back, too engrossed in my thoughts – mostly of him – to respond to him in any fashion. I didn’t even think to argue with him that I wasn’t as weak as he thought me to be, or that I wanted him to heal Robson in front of me. Once in my room, I stared fixedly at my hands as he moved the blanket over me. I was still staring at my hands when he left, unable to process when and why exactly had I started feeling so happy at the mere thought of Loki of Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks to DevilishDoll for giving me the amazing line about "telling the truth is his [Loki's] greatest trick."
> 
> 2\. The detail about Thor having had his head shorn is a reference to the Norse myth of Sif's hair being shorn - by none other than Loki.
> 
> 3\. I'm taking requests for Loki POV ideas on my Tumblr (linked at the top of the page). I've also released a playlist for the story which can be found [here. ](https://open.spotify.com/user/xtarkr3k4mswnwq4xfz9qemxo/playlist/4m39sWw5qn3Qqsq2xuzCjn?si=anysGWgvTjOcMkAYnXlh2Q) Feel free to send suggestions for more songs!


	27. That Time We Came to a Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You realise something important about Loki and yourself. Read this chapter on [Tumblr ](saiansha.tumblr.com/post/183147591197/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-27).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of week 3.

“I’m going to get into so much trouble for this,” Daniel muttered.

“No, you’re not,” I said.

“Yes, I am. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“This is restful. This is good,” I said.

Daniel and I were squished together on my bed. One of his arms was around me, touching the pillow but not my back. The other was holding up one side of tablet on his knees. I held the other end with my right hand. It was extremely cozy. I had been bored out of my mind waiting for Loki to darken my bedside, so I had called Daniel and all but bullied him into showing me – and watch with me – my namesake, the show Scandal.

“Your doctors are going to be upset,” he said patiently.

“Don’t care.”

“Tony’s going to be upset.”

“He’s got other things on his mind.”

A pause. Then, “Loki is going to be upset.”

I snorted. “Loki is always upset.”

That hadn't been exactly true. Loki had been in a good mood this entire week and it was I who had begun feeling grumpy the entire time. His ever-growing softness towards me and my own softness towards him were confusing me. I didn't understand when I had become so dependent on him for bringing a smile to my face or reassurance to my mind. I was pleased with how well we were finally working together and I should have been pleased how well he was doing with the patients, but I was not. Liking him and admiring him was one thing, but I did not like how sweetly I had begun thinking of him. It was the hospital, I decided. The hospital was driving me mad. I needed to get out and get my bearings back.

He chuckled half-heartedly. “No, but seriously, you need to –”

“Daniel,” I said, a tad sharply, “you don’t need to baby me.”

“I am not babying you; I am just making sure you are feeling okay,” he replied coolly.

“I am. Now, can you start the show?”

He said nothing and did as I asked. I stared at the screen intently, but none of the images and words made sense. I was too busy regretting what I’d said to Dan.

“Hey,” I touched his hand gently to catch his attention, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out. You’re just being a good friend.”

His expression softened and he shrugged. “It’s fine. I guess Loki’s rubbing off on you.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “God, I hope not!”

Dan laughed as well, but quickly sobered. “How is he? With you, I mean?”

“It’s… weird. I don’t know how to explain it. We’ve been at each other’s throats for so long… I almost quit twice and I thought about quitting two other times. He’s _awful_. He’s been so cruel and unkind to me… but he’s also been oddly _good_ to me. He’s made me feel important. He’s taught me to to be more sympathetic because there is so much going on in everyone’s lives and you have no way of knowing. He was there for me when no one else was or could have been. I don’t know… maybe he’s caused my standards to crash so hard that whenever he shows the tiniest shred of decency, I can’t help but be over the moon. After all, on my second day of work he told me that only reason he didn’t hate me was because I was too insignificant to hate.”

I was surprised I had spoken so much. I had never explained to anyone what I thought of Loki, yet the words had come as if I’d been ruminating over them for ages. Daniel, on the other hand, was struggling to find the right words.

“That’s weird. I mean, on one hand, it lines up with what I thought about him being this really horrible person who wants to watch the world burn. On the other, it doesn’t sound like the guy who has been hovering around you and literally supporting you upright these past three weeks.”

“I know, right?”

“And I’m really amazed how he’s been so willing to go about the hospital and sign autographs and whatnot.”

The God of Mischief benignly posing with three four young adults in a hospital had taken the world by storm, further stoking public imagination that maybe it _was_ Loki of Asgard who had protected New York against the HYDRA attack. The media had gone into a frenzy. All subsequent photos were dissected and analysed with attention paid to the minutest details. Mainstream media were full of articles and investigative pieces about how SHIELD and Avengers had deceived the public and how Loki should be tried for war crimes. But for every serious op-ed or feature, they devoted just as much time as tabloids and gossip columns in fawning and gushing over photos and videos of Loki.

“Yeah, he’s been very receptive,” I mumbled.

Could I say Loki actually listened to me? Dared I say that he paid an excruciating amount of attention to me? That he remembered disturbingly clearly everything I said or did or felt, whether I voiced it or not? Of course, with Loki nothing was a certainty. It was likely I was just imagining things.

“Do you think he’s sorry? About two years ago?”

“I…” I started, but caught myself in time.

Friend or not, I couldn’t just say blab to him about how Loki didn’t give a flying fuck about the destruction he had wreaked two years ago. He would carry my feelings about Loki to everyone else and thus, my words mattered. Loki had taught me that much. I was sure Loki didn’t actually regret his misdeeds – but I wasn’t _completely_ sure. Again, nothing was certain when it came to him.

“All I know is that he wants to be of service.”

“For all I think it’s worth, I think he’s lucky to have you as his PR.”

I inhaled and turned my neck to look at Dan properly. “I’ve barely done anything yet,” I said with a weak laugh.

Dan shrugged. “The hospital thing was entirely your idea.”

“Yes, but –”

“And I don’t think former supervillains, however repentant or not, constantly conjure sundresses and provide bodily support for just about anyone.”

He was referencing to all the photos of me and Loki that had ended up on the internet. While no one had paid attention to me in that initial photo, people had begun making the connection since I had started popping up in a lot of subsequent photos. Gossip columns were calling me everything from Loki’s second-in-command during the Battle of New York to Loki’s bastard daughter on Earth. Daniel hadn’t stopped laughing – and neither had Tony. Tony had been taking this surprisingly well – I supposed he was enjoying watching Loki suppress his murderous tendencies. Stella had followed the early efforts with interest, but since she and whatever was left of the team were too busy putting out other fires, everything Loki had been left to solely my jurisdiction.

“And,” he carried on, “I think he does like you somewhat – at least more than how much he likes the rest of us. And he’s not wrong, you know? You’re so awesome that a god likes you.”

“Oh, stop it, you!”

“And,” he said softly, “ _I_ like you too.”

“I like you too,” I whispered.

His cornflower blue eyes were soft and shining so sweetly. We inched our faces towards each other slowly. His lips were slightly chapped. I imagined mine looked the same. Hospitals didn’t give you many opportunities for maintaining a beauty regime. I could feel his breath on mine and I was sure he could feel mine on his. My heart was racing with anticipation. It had been so long since I’d kissed a guy. I looked into his eyes again. A strange observation passed my mind as our lips came closer: his eyes had no traces of green. My lips had not even brush against his when the spell shattered.

“Amusing ourselves, are we?”

I jumped away from Daniel. “Loki! You – you – you’re early!”

I was inexplicably disturbed Loki had come in at that moment – not because I was upset he had interrupted something (strangely, I wasn’t), but because I dreaded his reaction.

“I am, aren’t I?”

His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes were glacial. His hands were clasped behind his back, chin raised high, posture rigid. His eyes flicked to Dan and grew colder still.

“Get up.”

Dan tumbled out of the bed. Loki sneered as he watched his uncoordinated movements. I wanted to intervene, but no words were coming out, partly because of my impairment and partly out of fear. Why was he looking so frightening? The last I’d seen him this menacing was when he was the night of the party when he’d called in my ‘debt’ to him.

“Taking advantage of my PR, boy? I ought to have taught you a lesson the night you first appeared in my sight.”

“Loki!” I admonished, finally having found my tongue. “He wasn’t ‘taking advantage’ of me!”

“Was he not?” he asked, still not taking his eyes away from Dan, who’d finally managed to stand upright. “What else would you call sliding into an injured woman’s bed and trying to kiss her, boy?”

“Loki, _stop it_! I was going to kiss him back!”

He finally looked at me. His expression became so twisted that I wondered how someone so handsome could look so ugly. “You were, weren’t you?”

I faltered. He was looking at me as if I had betrayed him. “Yes. Now stop this, you’re making a scene!”

“And you weren’t? I hardly think the two of you latching lips would have not created a spectacle of its own.” He turned back to Dan. “But that would not have pleased you, yes? You wanted to touch her, did you not? Answer me!”

“No,” Dan squawked.

“No? All you wanted to do was kiss her?” he taunted.

“Yes!”

“And what now, boy? Do you wish to touch her now?”

“Enough Loki!”

“No!”

“Do you wish to kiss her?”

“ _No!_ ”

“Pathetic. So weak are the men of Midgrd that they cannot even stand up for what they covet. Were you truly willing to let such a milksop touch you, my little Valkyrie?”

What the hell had got into him? “I’m not your little anything!” I snapped. “And who the hell do you think you are to talk to me or him like this? I was going to kiss him of my own free will, so what is your problem?”

“My problem is that you are in no condition to go frolicking with this man-child here who has less conviction than a wet sponge.”

This was getting ridiculous. “Stop insulting him! He has treated me better than you have for most of the time I’ve known you! And I don’t need your permission do anything – I am perfectly capable of and allowed to invite someone to kiss me or touch me or whatever if I want!”

I regretted bringing up his treatment of me as soon as I’d brought it up – because I had promised I would try to get over that – but it was too late. Loki had set down the warpath before I could even open my mouth to apologise.

“I _saved_ you. I _healed_ you. I sedated you and your pain with my seiðr  so that you would not be injected with those debilitating substances. I blocked your nightmares. I am the reason you are alive! You owe me your life.”

Any regret that I felt had evaporated away. It was as if he had slapped me. No, it felt worse. I felt betrayed and hurt and confused the same way you’d feel if someone was stroking your cheek one moment then backhanding you the next. His words of support, his gestures of support – both verbal and non-verbal – and his patience and understanding meant nothing, for it was merely a quid pro quo to him.

“I owe you my life, yes,” I said, as calmly as I could with a wobbling bottom lip, “but you don’t own me, Loki. This is not what saving someone is about.”

“Oh?” He sneered. “You would know all about saving lives, wouldn’t you?”

My heart lurched painfully. His words stung because after all that he’d done, both good and bad, I’d finally managed to delude myself into thinking that he _liked_ me. If he had spent so much time taking care of me – and by his own admission – caring for me, then surely he must be beginning to think of me as his friend? He looked at me intently and I fancied I could see the cold sneer on his face falter, but I was wrong.

“You are in my debt,” he snarled, “and the sooner you accept it, the better.”

And just like that, the anguish went away, only to be replaced by boiling hot rage.

“Your debt?” I said clearly, not unlike him when he was issuing a threat or a challenge. “Your debt?” I raised my voice. “Your _debt_?” I bellowed, having fully worked myself into a frenzy now. “Oh, yes, because being in your debt worked out so well for me last time!”

Loki narrowed his eyes at me, but before he could even draw in a breath, I continued, “You must be feeling so damn pleased with yourself that you managed to trick me into not quitting the night of the party, huh? So damn pleased that I stayed and got caught in the crossfire so that you could act as if you bloody own me.”

“There is absolutely no guarantee that you would not have been affected if you had quit, so stop acting as if you are a victim of my villainy!”

“No, but we won’t ever know that, will we? I could’ve taken the weekend off and gone away somewhere. I could’ve been halfway across the world for all you knew, but _no_! I was stuck there because of you, waiting and thinking you had lied to me and were not coming back!”

Loki blanched, his eyebrows knotting and lips parting in something resembling dismay before he schooled his features into a snarl.

“And who refused to listen to me? Who refused to stay put and just trust me for one bloody moment? If you had not gone marauding and adventuring you would not be here right now being an ungrateful, whining mess and I would not be wanting to strangle you to death!”

“I… should go,” Daniel muttered.

I glared at him in confusion, having forgotten that he was even in the room. “No,” I said sharply.

“Yeah, um, you guys sound like you have a lot to discuss and I’d rather –”

“Get out,” Loki said.

“Stay out of this!” I snarled at Loki. “Daniel, stay!”

“I’ll come later, I promise!” Daniel said as he began making his way out.

“Daniel please!”

“Please,” he said in turn.

All the frustration from the past few weeks – frustration at my lack of movement, of infinite boredom, of worry I was useless, and most of all, confusion over what the hell I was beginning to feel about Loki and what the hell he was feeling about me – had finally reached a critical mass and so I lost the last of my patience.

“Fine! Then get out!”

He stopped in his tracks and gave me a hurt look. He said my name pleadingly, but I wasn’t buying it. “I said, get out!”

He gave me a parting look, but I didn’t deign to return it. Instead, I glared at Loki. Once Daniel had shut the door behind him, I exploded again, “Are you happy now? Happy to see me alone and helpless and at your mercy? Want to see me throw myself at your feet and thank you for honouring me with your most gracious presence?”

“Not this ridiculousness again!” he growled. “What blockage is there in your brains, woman? What have I done to make you think I will treat you this way? Have I not repented enough to you? Have I not apologised to you?”

“Oh, you may have apologised, but are you _sorry_? Do you regret what you did and said? Do you feel ashamed? Do you feel guilty?”

He marched closer to me until he was looming over me. “You ask for too much,” he spat.

“I ask for just enough,” I retorted.

“It is not my problem you cannot bear to forgive me. It is not my problem you are too in love with the past and too unwilling to see just how good I can be to you. And it is certainly not my problem if you are delusional enough to think you can get away with talking to me in such a manner as if you have the right to ask anything of me. My life does not revolve around you, Midgardian.”

“Then why have you been spending the past three weeks hovering around me?”

“Why do you think?” he roared.

“Oh, I don’t know, so that you can treat me as if I owe you my life and my person and feed your god complex?”

He inhaled sharply. “I will not stand for this any longer. I have better things to do and better people to be around.”

Tears stung my eyes at the idea that now, I wasn’t good enough even for him who had been here all throughout for whatever reason. “Then _go_! Why are you still hanging around here? I’m sure there are plenty of other people worth your time! Go on then! I’m sure _Mary_ is still waiting!”

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me,” I said coldly, feeling joyous I’d found the chink in his armour but bitter that _she_ was the chink. “I know you’d rather be with her than with me, though it might be difficult now. I’m sure she’s put together that she almost slept with Loki of Asgard. Bet you regret not sleeping with her when you had the chance.”

He gaped at me for a few moments, seemingly struggling to come to grips with my accusation. Then, he roared “Did you score another concussion? You know I do not wish to sleep with her – that is the last thing on my mind, you obnoxious termagant! How dare you accuse me of something so outrageous and erroneous when you _know_ you it is not the truth!”

“Do I?” I said waspishly. “Is it?”

His hands closed around my shoulders, his grip just this side of pain. He brought his face right in front of me. “Wretched witch, are you truly as moronic as to think I would not have sought that woman if I had really wanted her? Are you truly as ungrateful and imbecilic to question me after I have tended to you with my own seiðr day and night? Who do you think you are? I give you one smile and a gesture of comfort and you think you _know_ me? That you are worthy enough for me to grovel at your feet? You have _nothing_ to offer me. You _are_ nothing to me.”

I was trembling in his grip, shaking in anger as much as hurt. How could he be so cruel to me? How could he talk to me as if I was nothing – no, less than nothing – to him? I should have known I would never mean anything to him – but why was I acting as if I _wanted_ to mean anything to him? My confusion only fed my fury. Something sickly rose inside me, unbidden and irrational, and I almost recoiled from the bitterness.

“Fine!” I cried. “Not Mary then! Then go to that _Amora_ of yours! Go kiss her ass and suck up to her! _She_ is worth more than me, right? _She_ must be worth being around! _She_ can do seidr! Go! Go back to your stupid realm, you horse fucker!”

His grip tightened. I yelped in pain as he shook me hard and the vibrations travelled down my fractured arm. I brought my right hand to his face, trying to claw off the smooth porcelain skin off his skull. I wasn’t able to make even the slightest scratch, but he snarled and let go off one shoulder to pin my wrist to the pillow against my head.

“What has got into you?” he barked.

“What has got into _you_?” I yapped.

“Everything was fine! We were getting along! Why have you become so vitriolic again?”

The audacity of the man… “ _You_ are the one who came charging in acting as if you owned me! _You_ are the one who started terrorising Dan!”

“ _Do not_ say that wretch’s name and do not accuse me of terrorising him when it was _his_ decision to leave you here!”

The truth stung. I squirmed and raised my head, trying to headbutt him in the nose. He grunted and pushed his other hand flat against my forehead and held me down on the bed. He brought his face even closer, his nose almost touching mine. I could feel the tiniest flutter of his breath, see the slightest shift of his lips and hear the softest gulps. I had to squint to look him in the eye. Green, I thought dazedly. His eyes had that green. I had been thinking of _his_ right before I kissed Dan.

His voice was soft and low, smooth and dangerously silky, and yet, it was almost tender. “Do you truly think your current state will do anything to restrain my ire? I could break you so easily, Midgardian. I could put your body in the same state that I found it. Broken, bleeding and unconscious. Alive, but barely. Exhausted beyond measure. I could crush you in my arms by mistake if I forget my strength – except this time, it will not be by mistake.”

“Do it,” I shivered, looking him straight in the eye, our lips oh so close “Do it.”

His breaths came even more heavily than before and I shut my eyes by instinct. There was no what or how or why. There was only the sound of my heart racing, the warmth of his breath and the liquid anticipation in my veins. Just an inch more, I thought. Just an inch more. The palm on my forehead kept me from closing the distance.

“Do it,” I whispered, not sure – or caring – what I was asking him to do.

He was there. He was almost there and just as my pulse became wilder from the desperation and anticipation, he withdrew.

“No.”

My eyes flew open. A confused whine escaped me.

“No,” he repeated, his face well away from me now. No part of him was touching any part of me.

I sat up, dazed. “What?”

“I will not hurt you. To do that would be to break my promise – and to give you what you want. You want to think I am the monster. And you are right, darling, but I will not give you the satisfaction of knowing you are right. You want to think the worst of me, that I will never change from the brute who took a knife to your throat, who made you kneel, who tricked you into servitude – but I will not let you win. It will not be my loss any longer to not be forgiven by you; it will be your loss to not forgive me.”

His words were coldly remorseful. Agitation overtook me. He spoke as if he was leaving, distancing himself away not just in person but in spirit. I panicked. I could not let him leave. I would not let him leave.

“Loki,” I said.

“Thank you for this. You have proven to me that you are not worthy. I can let you go now and cleanse myself of this frivolous obsession.”

He smoothened the wrinkles on his clothes and stepped away. He gave me a curt nod, the briefest hint of a smile playing on his face and then began walking out.

Not worthy? Frivolous obsession? “Loki!” I called. “Loki!” Before I could call him a third time, he had already shut the door.

I sat in that position for hours maybe, still and mute. Every time I saw a shadow pass by from under the crack of the door, every time I thought I heard a creak of the door, I inhaled, but no one came. The only time I looked away from the door was to look at the chair, which seemed smaller and emptier than ever.

 

* * *

Daniel came to me the next day.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, not looking at him.

He said my name and touched me on the arm. I flinched, partly from the pain of having been rattled like a maraca the previous day, and partly in surprise.

He said my name again, worried. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” I said, dully, honestly. Nothing at all. So why did it hurt so much?

He exclaimed my name this time. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I said just as dully. “No.”

“Because if he did, I will have to –”

“What?” I asked curiously, looking him in the eye for the first time since he’d arrived today. “What will you do?”

He looked surprised at my first animated response since he’d walked in. “I will have to tell Tony.”

The curiosity flickered away and I turned my gaze back to my lap. “I see.”

He said my name desperately and took my hand in his. “ _Please._ Tell me what happened. I promise I will help you through it.”

“Where is he?” I asked quietly.

“Where is who?” he asked, baffled.

“Loki,” I said, irritated. “Where is he?”

“Why – why would you –”

“I asked, where is he?”

Daniel frowned at me, not understanding why I was so interested in the man who’d hurt me in more ways than one. In all fairness, neither did I.

“In one of the general wards. I think he is with the –”

“Children,” I said.

Over the past week, Loki had steadily built the hospital’s confidence in him and we’d decided that today we would offer to see the children admitted to the hospital. The patients and even some of the doctors and nurses had begun trusting him so easily, so quickly. And then, there was me. I’d known him for three months now, I’d seen equal measure of both the good and the bad, and yet I’d not been able to trust him, even though I’d promised I would try.

“Babe, what’s the matter? Please, I want to help you,” he pleaded.

I looked at him, torn. I was doing the same with him as well. I was pushing him away, just as I’d pushed away Loki. He wanted to help, so why was I almost deliberately keeping myself so miserable? But then, I didn’t want him here. He hadn’t stayed when I’d wanted him the most.

“Nothing, Daniel, nothing,” I offered him a weak smile and covered his hand with mine.

“Then why are you so upset? Jesus, you’ve been looking like you haven’t slept one bit, you’re sitting here as if you’re in shock, tell me what’s happened!”

“Nothing happened, Daniel.” Nothing happened. Loki did nothing. And you… you did nothing either.

“Is it me?” he suddenly asked. “Are you angry I left yesterday?”

I stilled. I tried to come up with a response to deflate the situation, but it was too late.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for that! He was going to hurt me!”

“No, he wasn’t,” I said in a voice so sure, so calm that it surprised me. When was the last time I’d felt so sure of myself? “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

He said my name slowly, as if making sure my brain was working. “Look,” he said cautiously, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but –”

“’Between us two?’” I said tetchily, “What do you mean ‘between us two?’”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t. Tell me what you mean.”

“Are you kidding me? Are you seriously saying you haven’t noticed him spending hours on end in your room? Or him supporting you and magicking a new dress on you when you’re posing for photos? Or him actually listening to you and going around giving gifts to people and healing them?”

“So what?” I barked. “So what if he’s been doing all that? How dare you suggest –”

“For god’s sake, I’m not suggesting anything! I’m merely saying, you two definitely have an interesting dynamic going on and –”

“Oh, please! You’re practically suggesting I’m sleeping with him!”

“That is _not_ what I said, don’t put words in my mouth!”

“That is what you suggested!”

“Alright!” he exploded. “Are you? Are you sleeping with him?”

I gaped at him. “Are you mad? Have you looked at me? Do I look like I’m in a condition to sleep with anyone?”

“Can’t blame me for asking! I’ve seen the way he looks at you and hovers over you! Or have you forgotten how he reacted when I hit you on your knee?”

“He was just being worried you’ll hurt me and cause my injury to worsen.”

His eyes bulged. “You are one of the smartest people I know – and that’s saying something, given how I’m practically surrounded by geniuses – but sometimes you are the dumbest fucking person ever. How can you not see? Your injuries are just an excuse!”

“For what?” I snapped. “He doesn’t need an excuse for anything! Loki does what he wants!”

“And he wants you!”

“No. Stop it.”

“It makes sense! Now I understand why he spilled your drink at the party! This is exactly why he got so pissed when I came to visit you and I touched your knee! And this is exactly why he threatened me to leave yesterday!”

And how Loki had reacted that night before the attack, when he had presumed I was ignoring him in favour of Dan, my mind supplied, but I was not willing to entertain that line of thought. I wanted to shift the focus back on him. “And where does that put you then? You did not stay! You did not stay when I asked you! When I wanted you! Why didn’t you stay, Daniel?”

“Because he’s a fucking lunatic and I’m only human! Tell me the truth, would you have stayed if you were in my place?”

My mouth opened and shut of its own accord several times. I stared at him, my heartbeat slowly steadying itself. I was about to concede and apologise, when my inner voice spoke up. Except it wasn’t _my_ voice – it was the voice of Loki.

 _You did_ , he said. _You stayed._

 _Not out of choice_ , I replied.

_Not the fifth time, no. But the first time, when we first met. The second time, on your first day of work. The third time, when I almost killed you. The fourth time, when I came to you._

_I_ am _the dumbest fucking person ever._

 _Maybe_ , the Loki in my head laughed, _but you are also braver than him four times over_. _You stayed. You listened. You were there._

“I would’ve stayed,” I said quietly, the anger and frustration receding from my voice, leaving behind the same surety from a few minutes ago. “I would’ve stayed for you.”

 _And for me_ , Loki said. _You would’ve stayed for me._

_No._

_Yes._

Daniel shrugged.

“Guess I’m a fucking lunatic too, then,” I said blandly. 

“You can’t blame me. He is terrifying.”

 _And yet you stayed,_ Loki mused.

 _You can’t blame him,_ I protested. _He’s only just human and you’re a god._

_You are mortal too, yet here you are. Your body may be broken, but you sit with the kind of dignity that he can only dream of possessing. You would always stand up for your own, my little Valkyrie._

“He wouldn’t have hurt you. He would’ve listened to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what guarantee do you have of that?”

The fact that he stood up for me against Stella. The fact that he listened to me ramble on end after my nightmare. The fact that he insisted on helping me even when I wouldn’t let him.

 _My, my, little Valkyrie,_ Loki said snidely, _are you standing up for me?_

_You said it yourself – I would always stand up for my own._

The thought arose uncensored in my mind. It sounded so very much like what he had sounded that I shuddered. What dangerous turn were my thoughts taking?

I shrugged. “I just know he would.” I didn’t need to explain anything to him. I knew what I knew.

 _You will believe the truth – or at least, it will be your truth_.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Daniel said flatly, “but that’s not good enough. How can you trust him?”

Because he has been vulnerable to me in a way no one ever has. He understands me even when I don’t understand myself. Because even when I haven’t trusted him, he has stuck by his promises. Because he has been there for me all this while when there was absolutely no reason for him to.

 _I already told you,_ Loki said _, I wanted to make sure my seiðr –_

_Shut up._

_I’d like to see you say that to me in person._

_I will_.

“I just do, that’s all.”

“Fine, maybe I made a mistake, but I care for you too. I want you to be okay and happy too. Doesn’t that count?”

But you left me.

_“Let me be good to you.”_

But Loki wouldn’t have. He tried to win me back countless times.He let himself be turned in to HYDRA just so that he could keep me safe. He didn’t leave me in the hospital. He sought me so much, I realised with a thrill, that he couldn’t bear the company and touch of Mary.

I understood now that those hot flashes of anger, bitterness and frustration were jealousy. Those times when I watched him eat or drink something new weren’t just amusement; they were fascination. Those times when there was a warmth that spread from my heart and belly to the rest of my body when I watched him interact with the patients wasn’t just satisfaction; it was fondness. Those times when I admired his form and the perfection of his features and the eloquence of his speech wasn’t just appreciation; it was desire.

And when I longed for the ocean hue of Loki’s eyes instead of the cornflower blue of Daniel’s, it wasn’t just a passing fancy; it was a sign.

I was falling for Loki of Asgard.

He cared. For _me_. That is why he stayed by my side. That is why he has helped me recover. That is why he let himself be vulnerable, why he would get so difficult whenever Dan would come or be mentioned. No, care didn’t necessarily equate to desire. Care didn’t necessarily equate to falling for someone in return. Maybe he sought my company over anyone else’s not because he wanted me, but because I listened to him, but I couldn’t be bothered. All I knew was that I more than cared for Loki and that even if he felt nothing in return, it was fine. As long as I could get him back, befriend him again and make it up to him, everything would be fine. I would make everything fine.

And maybe, just _maybe_ , he did feel something for me. He had called me beautiful and he had said something about an obsession, but I did not dare to linger on that.

“I need to find Loki,” I declared suddenly.

“What?”

“I need to go speak with him!” I exclaimed, almost falling off the bed as I fumbled for the crutches.

“Why?”

“Because I said so, that’s why! Now are you going to help me or not?”

He gave me a disappointed look, which I pretended to not see, but helped me without a murmur. My sense of balance had improved and my arm was in better form, so I was able to use the crutches more efficiently. We were making our way relatively quickly, but I couldn’t have arrived soon enough. I was panting and sweating from the exertion by the time we reached the children’s general ward. He was modelling his helmet for a bunch of children. It was… cute. I was so distracted with my thoughts, running over apologies and explanations in my head, that I almost did not notice the three people to the side.

Loki stood up soon after that, much to the children’s disappointment, and began making his way out, one person next to him, two behind. He noticed me and frowned, his expression turning into a scowl when he noticed Daniel.

“What are you doing here?” he asked me, sounding none too pleased to see me.

I gulped, but before I could answer, the woman to his left interrupted. She recited my name and looked to me for confirmation. I nodded.

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m so glad we could run into you,” she said and extended her right hand. She retreated it when she realised I wasn’t in any position to shake her hand and gave me an understanding smile. “I’m Asha Sharma. Tony Stark has appointed me as your lawyer.”

“What? Why?”

“You have been asked to testify on Capitol Hill for your involvement with Loki of Asgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Not really sure about this chapter... I wanted to write Jealous!Loki and I also wanted to finally write Jealous!Scandal. I also wanted to make her finally accept and understand what she's feeling and I realised it was only some more arguing and juxtapositioning Loki against Daniel that would get me the conclusion. Still, I feel it's a little abrupt... Please send concrit. I welcome feedback, as always.
> 
> 2\. I've always maintained that their relationship progress is going to be more circular than linear. Sometimes they take two steps forward and one step back. That said, things are definitely looking up now, despite the emotional angst in this chapter. Hang in there, folks... sweet, sweet rewards are on their way, sooner than you'd think.


	28. That Time We Testified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You testify in front of the Senate about your involvement with Loki. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/183319847922/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-28).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set one week after the previous chapter.

This wasn’t the way I’d envisioned a visit to Capitol Hill.

I’d thought I’d go with my friends, maybe family, but instead I was being herded by a posse of lawyers, office workers and what looked like Secret Service, but could’ve also been the 82nd Airborne for all I knew. It would’ve made for a powerful image, were it not for the fact I was hobbling and struggling with my crutches, sweat running down my face from the exertion. Asha had strongly encouraged me to use the wheelchair so that I could play the sympathy card and been seen as a small, helpless little girl, but being the idiot I was, I had decided on walking. I was angry with myself for not choosing the easy way out, but I was also relieved, because my entire walk of shame was being documented by the media. It was a closed-hearing, because it was a “matter of national security.” The real reason, Asha had drily informed me, was that the entire political system was in shambles and public confidence in the government was at an all-time low. The government wanted to gather the information in private and be sure of what they could safely use before they made the case public. 

It hadn’t taken long for the government to realise that Loki of Asgard was an issue that could backfire even more than Natasha Romanoff’s hearing upon them, given that this was the same Senate that had given SHIELD and the Avengers permission to keep Loki on Earth. But word had reached the media that the hearings were to happen, so now I had a dozen flashbulbs going off in my face. It felt supremely odd to be the centre of attention. My predecessors – former PRs for Loki under Tony – had also been called to the hearings, but it was me and my hearing that were gathering most interest. I was the current person in the job. I was the youngest of them. I was that girl who’d helped Tony Stark in the moment of crisis. I was the poster child for suffering, Tony Stark’s newest protégée and the mysterious girl who was photographed with – gasp – a smiling, benign Loki.

The god in question had been less than pleased with me recently. The lawyers attached to him had disbarred me from attending his legal advising, citing that communication between me and him wouldn’t be protected under attorney-client privilege. None of it would have stopped Loki from demanding my presence if he had wanted it, of course, but he hadn’t. It had stung, but Asha hadn’t let me wallow in my self-pity for too long.

“There are two things you need to understand,” she’d begun, “One, I’m here to represent you. Not Tony, not Avengers and definitely not Loki. We’re going to make sure you sound convincing enough to not be called for a public hearing. We’re going to help you establish a neutral image of them and give the Senate as less ammo against them as possible. We’re not going to throw them under the truck to save you, but if it comes down to defending yourself and letting your case been torn apart, you will do anything necessary to defend yourself. Got it?”

“Yup,” I said.

“Hey!” She snapped her fingers. “Snap out of it! You’re no damsel in distress, so stop acting like one. Tony told me how you helped him get his AI back up. You’ve been in a hospital for three weeks, but now you’ve got your rest, okay? You need to take this head on.”

I snorted. “You’re worse than him.”

“Than who?”

“Loki.” I was searching an opportunity to talk to him – or of him.

“Which brings me to my second point,” she said as she sat down. “Whatever he’s done and said to you these past three months, you must be honest about it. Even if he blew a raspberry in your ear, I want you to own up to it – and he did way more than that, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” I said heavily.

“No lying. I don’t care if he saved your life and brought your puppies back from the dead. It’s one thing to beat about the bush, but absolutely no half-truths and lies, understood?”

“Yup.”

“Lastly, remember: you are not a PR when you step inside those doors. Do not try to make him look good or make him appear less hostile. You are merely a civilian testifying – got it?”

“Yes.”

Presently, the media tossed questions at me: was I nervous? was I going to throw Loki under the bus? had Tony Stark coerced me into this job? did I think I was a traitor to be working for Loki? how did you get such an important job right out of college?

Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. Walk like Loki. Strut like him. Show everyone you are in control even though you’re breaking apart inside. Look sharp, look smart, look straight – like Loki. Be like Loki.

The doors opened and we went inside, finally free of the baying outside. Asha helped me sit down, poured some water for me and handed me a tissue. I dabbed my face with it, my hands shaking noticeably.

“Here are your talking points, like we discussed and rehearsed throughout the past week,” she put down a sheet of paper on the table in front of me. Kneeling next to me, she said, “You helped Tony Stark defend New York, you have had an excellent legal team run you through all possible questions and answers and you have survived Loki. Don’t get flustered by stuffy old white men who didn’t know that half their colleagues were HYDRA members, okay?”

I nodded nervously.

“I need you to say it. Say you will be fine.” 

I gulped. “I’ll – I’ll be fine.”

“Damn right you will be!” she grinned and got up. “Remember, you don’t need to answer anything straightaway. It is better to look indecisive and unsure than to get trapped.”

I nodded.

“You’re not under trial here. Even if you had been, there’ve been truly horrible people who’ve been under trial for heinous crimes and they haven’t busted a drop of sweat. You’ll be fine, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I shuddered, feeling a tiny spark of hope inside me.

With a parting squeeze of my shoulder, she left and sat in a chair behind me. I surveyed the scene. Tired, paunchy, suspicious politicians sat in front of me. At least a third of the seats were empty – these, I suspected, used to be occupied by senators who had now been ratted out as HYDRA sympathisers. The senators sat behind wooden tables on raised platforms arranged in a U-shape. The décor was as gloomy as the mood of the room’s occupants – dull brown walls, dull grey carpets, with the occasional blue of the insignia of the Select Committee thrown in.

The Chairman of the Committee asked me to confirm my name, date of birth and place of birth before explaining that each member will get three minutes to question me and that the senators will question based on the order of seniority. The hearing began promptly.

First up was Senator Klein, who looked as if one breeze would do him in. “Good morning. Thank you for agreeing to testify despite your injuries and thank you for your services to the country.”

With no small deal of effort, I plastered a smile on my face. “Thank you, Senator,” I managed.

“There is no point in circling around the issue, so let’s get right to it. How long have you been employed under Tony Stark?”

“I have been working for the Avengers for around three months, including the time I’ve spent in hospital.”

“How did you land this job?”

“I met with Tony Stark at a party. I told him I had recently graduated and was looking for a job in PR. He chatted a bit with me, called me for an interview the next day. He offered me a position and I accepted.”

“And did he tell you that you will be working for Loki then?”

That part had technically come under my non-disclosure clause, but Asha had reasoned that I was expected to acknowledge this much. “Yes.”

“And you accepted?” 

“Yes.” _Obviously_.

“Why did you accept?”

 _Because I was delusional and had fantasies of being successful and rich_. “I needed the job.”

“And did you not once question the fact that you will be working for the man who nearly destroyed this planet? Did your conscience not once tell you that you certainly didn’t need this kind of a job?”

My cheeks burned. It was a question that Asha had anticipated right in the beginning and had prepared me for, but it hurt no less when it was actually flung at me. I tried to compose myself before I answered, “I trusted in Tony Stark.”

“What did Stark say to you to convince you?”

“I am bound by a non-disclosure agreement, under which I cannot disclose what Tony Stark said to me or asked me during that interview,” I recited from memory, just like Asha had instructed me.

“Oh, are you, now?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Why would Mr. Stark put a non-disclosure around an interview?”

“You will have to ask him.”

“But why do you think he would?”

Asha had warned me about this. The senators would try to frame it as if they wanted my opinion, when in reality, they just wanted me to put my foot in my mouth. “You’ll have to ask him,” I repeated firmly.

He glared at me and I stared back, trying not to cower. Finally, he relented and said, “No more questions.”

Senator Addams was next, and he jumped into it without any warm up. “During your interview, did you not ask Mr. Stark about why the previous persons who held the post had quit?”

Another attempt to trip me. “I am afraid I cannot answer that.”

“Very well. Did you not ask Mr. Stark any time during your employment about why the previous persons who held the post had quit?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I did not think of it.”

“You did not think of why highly skilled and far more talented and experienced PR’s than you had quit doing PR for a supervillain?”

 _Former supervillain,_ I corrected reflexively in my mind. “No.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I just didn’t think of it.”

“You didn’t think about what happened to them under Loki – and what could happen to you?”

“It did not cross my mind, no.” I was being defensive and I knew I wasn’t coming across well, but I had really no clue how else to proceed.

Addams shuffled some papers for dramatic effect. “I have here the testimony of Ms. Andrea Collins, the first person to be hired for the position. She says, and I quote, ‘Mr. Loki threatened to grab me by the neck and throw me out of the window – just like he’d done with Mr. Stark during the Battle of New York – if I did not bring him the coffee he desired.’”

I chortled before I quickly turned it into a cough. I lunged for the water and took a gulp to cover my slip-up. I could feel Asha burning holes into my back with her eyes. _What was wrong with me? Why was I laughing at the antics of a villain?_ Still, I couldn’t deny that it was amusing – and a relief – to know that it was not only me who had suffered the coffee dilemma.  

Addams glared at me, but my slip-up wasn’t big enough for him to call me out on. “So, what do you think of Loki’s conduct?”

“It is most unbecoming, Senator,” I said, managing to infuse the right amount of the right kind of emotion.

“And yet, you continue to support him?”

“I do not condone any of his previous actions.” Asha had not needed to tell me this, but I was in no way going to defend him for what he had done.

“But you continue to support him?”

“I support him for his efforts to defend the city against the HYDRA attack, in which he saved –”

“May I remind you, you are not here to do PR for Loki of Asgard, you are here to testify about your interactions with him.”

 _That’s exactly what I’m doing, you leathery piece of haggis._ “I am just –”

“Do you support him, yes or no?”

“I –”

“Yes or no?”

“Senator –”

“ _Yes or no_?”

“Yes!” I snapped. Silence, and then:

“No more questions,” Senator Addams crowed.

I did my best to not glare back at him. The tremor in my hands was even worse as I reached for the glass of water again, this time because I genuinely needed it. Barely five minutes in and I had already fucked up. This is exactly what Asha had told me to not do: lose my cool and get trapped into giving an answer the senator was looking for.

Senator Mitchells took over. “How would you describe your experience working for Loki?”

“Challenging.”

“Please elaborate.”

I inhaled and exhaled, gathering my thoughts. “As you all know by now, Loki can be difficult to deal with. But he is not unreasonable. He has gone above and beyond what was expected of him to help civilians under attack.”

“Which is quite the change from last time.”

I shrugged, not making any effort to deny the accusation.

Mitchells continued, “How many times has he mistreated you?”

 _Oh, far too many to count_. “I’m sorry, Senator, but given my concussion and state of mind, I find it difficult to do a free recall.” Asha had insisted that I use my medical condition to dance around such vague rabbit-hole questions. Technically, I was fine and I remembered everything, but why answer when I could get away with a technicality? I slumped in the chair, self-loathing steadily rising. 

“And yet you are physically and mentally competent enough to do PR all over the hospital?”

“PR is something I’ve been doing for over three years, whereas I’ve worked for Loki for only three months.” Not bad. I was beginning to bullshit just as well as Loki, I thought bitterly.

“You have become the longest-serving PR for Loki. Do you know much about the person who had the honour of holding that title before you?”

“No,” I said, dreading where this was going.

“Her name was Caitlin Michaels.” 

“’ _Was?’_ ”

“My apologies – is. Although, she came very close to being ‘was,’ no thanks to your Loki of Asgard. You see, she worked very, very hard for three months. Put up with his tantrums and the verbal abuse, did all her research, created a brilliant strategy and so on and so forth. She patiently dealt with Loki and he could not get her to budge. No matter what he said or did, she kept on going, choosing to just focus on her job. Of course, he couldn’t stand by idly, could he?” He peered at me, as if expecting me to contribute to his narration. I stared back at him with a poker face. Finally, he continued, “He tried very hard to find what would set her off – and eventually he did. Ms. Michaels weakness was that she was apiphobic.”

He peered at me again, awaiting my reaction. After a while, I gave in. “Sorry, but what is that?”

“Apiphobic. Fear of bees.”

Oh god. “I see,” I gulped.

“It’s a phobia that often comes after someone got stung by a bee after accidentally stepping on it, probably as a child, especially if they suffered anaphylaxis.”

This time, I couldn’t wait till the senator peered at me. “What?”

“Anaphylaxis,” he repeated snootily, “a severe and life-threatening allergic reaction.”

I had to physically stop myself from reaching for the water.

“Ms. Michaels was eight years old when she first got stung by a bee and underwent anaphylaxis. She was rushed to the hospital in the nick of time, but as you can see, it left a big impression on her psyche. She successfully managed to stay away from any bees – until, of course, she met Loki. He found his opening when he managed to discover she had apiphobia. He persuaded his brother, Thor, to bring a box of bees to ‘study.’ Then, when she appeared in his room, he unleashed the bees on her. Not only did she have a panic attack, but also, she got anaphylaxis for the second time in her life. She almost died that day. Do you understand?”

I felt sick. My knee had begun throbbing, my head hurt and I could feel my makeup dripping down my face with the sweat. Suppressed memories, forgotten amid the stress and chaos of the past month or so came flashing back – him holding a knife to my throat, him threatening to behead me, him pushing me down and telling me it was his brother’s mercy that had saved me that day. How could I have ever decided I was falling for him? How could I ever trust him?

“Senator Mitchells, your time is up,” the Chair announced.

“Do you understand?” he insisted.

“Senator –”

“Do you understand?” he yapped.

“Yes. I do.”

The next Senator, Garcia, jumped in promptly. “Well, I’m not going to waste the House’s and your time discussing your predecessors. They’ve all lasted for far shorter than you did, with similar experiences. One even had a coffee thrown in his face. He’s okay, if you’re interested to know. Has Loki of Asgard ever physically threatened or attacked you?”

I shut my eyes briefly. “Yes. He has. On my first day of work, he grabbed me by the throat – to put the fear of literal god in me, I suppose. And then one day, I’d lost my temper and said something about his ancestry and adoption. He attacked me then.”

“How did he attack you?”

The nausea was rising. “I’m – I’m – I’m afraid I don’t feel up to sharing that.”

Garcia fidgeted, obviously not pleased with how I was using psychological wellbeing as a defense. “Clearly, something bad _did_ happen, otherwise you would not have such difficulty recounting. And I doubt you enjoyed him grabbing your throat and attacking you – so why did you not quit?”

I clenched and unclenched my jaw. “As I said, I needed the job.”

“Even to the extent you did not mind getting hurt or quite possibly dying?”

“I needed the job and I had made a commitment, which I have done my best to honour.”

“Commitment to whom?”

“To the job and Tony Stark.”

“And not to Loki?”

Yes… and no. Why had I been so committed to him? Why had I stuck despite all that he had done? Why had I not left that day of the outfitting? Because he had slipped in some vulnerability and gentle words? Because he had looked desperate and repentant? Because amidst all the awful things he had done – and they had been truly awful – there were those sparks of goodness and decency in him? Were those sparks enough though? Were they enough to make me like him, to trust him?

Had the Avengers not won, he would have been ruling over the planet now and who was to say where I would’ve ended? He would’ve shown no mercy, no kindness, no decency whatsoever.

“I was committed to him because Tony Stark was committed to him.”

“So you mean to say you truly felt no loyalty whatsoever to Loki himself?”

“My job was to be professional. Whatever loyalty I have shown is out of my professionalism.”

The words sounded icy even to me. It was exhausting swinging from wanting to defend him to death one moment to distancing myself from him the next.

“Very well, onto the next. From what I have heard from my sources, he has spent an awful amount of time in your private room while you were recovering. Why do you think that is?”

I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You will have to ask him.”

“Yes, but what do you think?”

“I don’t think I can accurately guess the inner musings of an alien, Senator.”

“Of course, but I must ask, did you develop any non-professional relations during that time?”

Garcia, I decided, was a first-rate pervert. “No.” Asha would have told me to stop right there and not say anything more, but I had a mind of my own. “And, as you can see, even if I wanted to – which was the last thing on my mind – I could not have, because half my body isn’t working.”

He did not look thrilled with my sass. “There is no need to get defensive about the line of questioning, ma’am. This is exactly why you are here, so that you may clarify any doubts we have. No more questions,” he said to the Chair, but not before sending me a smug look. 

It took every fibre of control to not let my face contort into a sneer.

“Thank you for providing us with your testimony, ma’am,” Senator Koll prefaced. “We all appreciate your cooperation, especially with the tricky questions.”

“Thank you,” I said neutrally.

“I’d like to go off the questioning about your time in the hospital. Was it your idea to have Loki visit the patients?”

“Loki wanted to do something to help the people suffering – whom he had already healed during and after the attack. I suggested he could visit them to further help them and provide them comfort.”

“I see. Were you not once worried that he would attack the patients?”

“If he had to, he would not have healed them.”

“And were you not worried about how the patients would react to him?”

“I was, yes.”

“Even so, you decided to proceed?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

Asha had instructed me to not lie and to not try to sound altruistic. “I wanted to do the job Tony Stark was still paying me for.”

“But you did not once think about compromising the safety of the public? Sure, he may have healed them, but he was also the person who attacked them three years ago.”

“I made sure we only reached out to people who had not suffered in the Battle of New York and who did not have first or second connections with those who had. We also took the precautions that the director advised.”

“And what were these precautions?”

“We were not going to visit the psych ward, the children’s ward, the elderly and the ICU. We were going to be accompanied by Thor at all times. We were not going to spend more than five minutes with each patient. We were to leave the doors to the private rooms open.”

“And you thought these precautions were enough?”

“They have worked and served their purpose.”

“But what if they had not? As I have heard, there was an episode where a certain patient kept screaming for ten minutes at the sight of him.”

“I sincerely regret that incident and I apologise unreservedly for it. Regardless, I must add that it was the only one of its kind.”

“So it would have taken more such incidents to dissuade you from your professional ambitions?”

“I would never put my professional ambitions over the good of the public.”

“And is that what you also reasoned when you took Loki to a party at Avengers Tower the night of Directory Fury’s death?”

“I reasoned that it would be good to get him used to interacting with the public and slowly modifying their perception of him.”

“Without telling them, of course, that they were talking with Loki of Asgard.”

Great, now I looked like the biggest scumbag on the planet and the thing was, I couldn’t bring myself to disagree with that notion. “Yes.”

“Is this how ethical PRs operate? Is this what you do in the name of public relations – willfully mislead the public, spread misinformation and put lives at risk?”

I didn’t have to be a genius to know that the pitch I’d delivered to Tony and Stella was not going to cut any ice here. Truly, what had I been thinking? Yes, I didn’t know then that Loki had his magic, but I shouldn’t have needed to know that to realise that taking him to a party was a terrible idea. He had almost slashed my throat just two weeks before – no matter that eloquent and heartfelt speech he’d delivered about how much he regretted doing that to me. Why had I given in? Why did he have such sway over me?

It was only thanks to Asha that I was able to come up with a response to this question. “No lives were threatened, Senator. There was an entire squad of SHIELD agents ready to step in, – regardless of if they were HYDRA or not – the Avengers were on standby and, most importantly, Loki’s magic was restrained.”

“And you think that would have been enough to protect the public from harm? That the Avengers would have been enough to deal with the situation without throwing the city into chaos?”

“Yes, otherwise this same Senate would not have agreed to letting the Avengers keep Loki in the Avengers Tower,” I snapped.

Everyone went stock-still. I heard Asha fidget in her seat, clearly displeased with my response. And then, multiple Senators started barking at once. I fought the urge to close my eyes and just pretend I’d died in my chair. Koll rose halfway from his chair and pointed a finger at me, but before he could say anything, the Chair interrupted.

“Thank you, Senator Koll, that’s all the time we have for you. I ask the Committee to come to order.” When the Committee did not, in fact, come to order, he repeated more loudly, “I said, I ask the Committee to come to order!” He glared at the offending Senators till they had all settled down and contented themselves with glaring at me, before saying, “Senator Travis, you’re up.”

“Ma’am, are you accusing us of putting the lives of the citizens of this country at risk?”

 _Yes_. “Not at all, Senator,” I said glibly, having thought up a great response to mitigate the damage. “In fact, I thank you all for making the decision to let Loki stay, for without him, I am sure the HYDRA attack would’ve cost us far more lives and damage.”

He peered at me, taken aback. Clearly, he was not expecting anything but this. Behind me, Asha finally settled more easily into her seat. I resisted the urge to smile triumphantly.

Travis cleared his throat. “Yes, well, er, thank you. Now, from what I have heard of your testimony so far, you seem to place a lot of trust in Loki of Asgard. Is this correct?”

Moment of decision. “Yes,” I said.

“Even though he has treated you rather horribly in the past?”

“Yes.”

“When did your opinion of him change?”

“After he saved my life.”

It was the truth – but it was also a lie. My opinion had not ‘changed.’ It had been changing ever so slowly for a long time. It had subtly changed the second day, when he had advised me to not try to please Tony and Stella and instead try to please myself. It had devolved after that, but it had changed after I saw how much my words had cut him. It changed again when he came to my apartment. It changed when I realised how lonely he was and offered him ice cream. It changed when he apologised to me. It changed when he had called me his little Valkyrie, when he had said I was beautiful. 

But was it me whom he’d called beautiful? I was hardly beautiful. I was no Mary. I was no goddess. I was just me. At the thought of Mary more bitterness rose in my mind – bitterness at him and bitterness at myself. Would I ever be able to trust him? Should I ever trust him? I was just attracted to his looks, right? That was all. But even then I knew I was lying to myself. His looks helped, but there was much more to my attraction.

“Yes, he saved your life. Yes, he saved dozens of other three weeks ago. But he also took a lot of lives three years ago, as well as hurt many others in many different ways. How can you forget the fact that he tried conquering this planet?

He was right. How could I? How could I forget all the cruelty he has inflicted? “You’re right. I can’t and I promise you, I will not.”

“So how can you work to convince the public to forgive him and forget his crimes?”

“I don’t want them to forget his crimes, even if they can forgive him. All I know is – from what Loki himself has told me – that he wishes to redeem himself and repent for what he did. We know he was instrumental in defending the planet during the events of the Convergence. 

“We have now seen he was instrumental in defending the city against the HYDRA attack. All I want to do is help the public give him a chance. Sure,” I said with a gulp, “he may have lied to me about wanting to repent. I am acting on what I have been told, what I have seen, what I have experienced. I am doing my job, just as you are.”

“Is that why he has been posing for photographs?” 

I tried to not sigh. All that build up and for what? “Yes.”

“And how exactly have you managed to capture global attention for him?”

“As I recall, a user on Twitter shared a photo of himself with Loki and it went viral.” 

“Yes, but what is this medium of sharing?”

I gawked at Travis, unsure about what exactly he was asking. Was he truly asking what I thought he was asking? Could a senator afford to lack such… basic understanding of the world?

“Senator,” I said carefully, “it’s called social media.”

Travis gave a small smile. “That’s nice.”

“Thank you, Senator Travis, I’m afraid your time is up. Senator Francis, you’re next,” the Chair interrupted.

“It is clear Loki has mistreated your predecessors and it is clear he has mistreated you,” Francis began. “For whatever reason, you chose to stay. Yet, there is also indication that you have got along better with Loki than the other PRs. Would you agree?”

I licked my lips. “Yes.” I couldn’t deny it. We _had_ had some really good moments when we had talked with each other than at each other.

“You were the first person to be able to make such headway with him. Why would you think that is?”

It was too late to escape the trap. I could only delay the inevitable. “Like you said, I got along relatively better with him than the other PRs.”

“And why did you get along better with him comparatively?”

Yes, why _had_ I? I had figured it had to do with him being lonely and not having exposure to anyone else other than Thor, but wouldn’t it have been the same with the other PRs as well? Wouldn’t he have been as drawn to them for their company as he had said he had been to me? What was it that had drawn him to me? Or had he really been truly drawn to me? Had it been just a matter of chance that we had connected? Had we even connected? How would you connect to a person like him?

Had my rejection of him been the only reason he had sought me? I didn’t think anyone else had quit in the way I had and given him as good as I had got. Had ego been the only reason he kept coming back? And if I forgave him, would it mean that he would stop seeking me out? He would, wouldn’t he? Why else would he want to be close to me? I wasn’t smart or strong or brave or beautiful… I wasn’t exceptional. I was painfully mortal. But it shouldn’t matter. I should not be worried about whether a megalomaniac returns my feelings, damn it!

“I honestly don’t know.”

“I think you can afford to be a little perceptive here. There is clearly a reason Tony Stark hired you and think you could make it work.”

“Tony Stark was merely experimenting. He said that perhaps a fresh face and someone young would achieve better results.”

“And is this the reason why Loki has been cooperative with you?”

I heard the hidden insinuation in his questioning. The only difference was that he was being subtler about it than Garcia. I decided to be upfront for once. “I think Loki had begun feeling lonely. I was his only real contact other than Thor. He was desperate to go back home a free man and he realised that his only shot at being allowed to return would be to show he has made up for his crimes. And a part of that would be to shift public opinion about him.”

“You said Loki was feeling lonely and that you were his only other real contact?”

Shit. I should not have said that. He was clearly interpreting this in the wrong way. And it was wrong. My feelings were wrong. And even if they weren’t, it was still highly unethical. I could not just have feelings – leave alone, god forbid, start a relationship – with my client. What was I thinking?

“I only think he was lonely and I only think I was his other contact.”

“So you do have a positive association with him?”

“As of lately, yes.”

“And he saved your life and looked after you in the hospital?”

“He saved my life and _healed_ me, yes.”

“Well, the photos do show him helping you and supporting you.”

Should I just say he was doing it because I had instructed him to? Or should I admit – and accept – that he was not doing it because he expected to be in public scrutiny? That he did it because he wanted to, even though he didn’t have to? That he didn’t even need to listen to me, or stay with me, or soothe me after my nightmare, or apologise to me, or share ice cream with me. That he didn’t need to listen to me, take interest in me, ask me about my hopes and dreams and soothe my worries and fears. My head – and my heart – hurt.

“Yes, they do.”

“No more questions.”

I sighed.

The hearing went on in a similar vein for the next hour. I barely registered Asha’s words as she escorted me out of the chamber and back to the hotel once the hearing was done. All I could make out was that she had not been thrilled about some lines of questioning – and definitely not my sassing – but she had felt that I had performed adequately. In the evening, when I was sure Loki had returned, I went to his room, not knowing what I wanted to say but desperately wanting to see him regardless. The guards outside the door did nothing to quench my anxiety as I wondered to knock. I had been stood outside the door to Loki’s room for fifteen minutes, wondering if I should go in. On the one hand, he had not indicated in any way he wanted to see me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him. I shouldn’t want to see a genocidal alien, no matter what he might have done recently to change that perception. On the other hand, I wanted to be close to him, to have him reassure me that he was as good as I had started believing him to be.

Ultimately, I had chickened and fled – as much as you can flee when you’re on crutches – back to my room. Sleep had come at last, but it was a restless sleep, and I tossed and turned all night as I tried to reconcile the cruel and dangerous Loki with the gentle and careful Loki. How could anyone be so complex at best and self-contradictory at worst?

It was early morning before I finally managed to sleep peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So obviously I have no idea how a Senate hearing works other than the watching dear old Zucc blabber about Facebook. The lawyers/legal drama aficionados among you, feel free to hit me up about the accuracy of the chapter. And, of course, everyone smother me with constructive criticism.
> 
> 2\. "Senator, it's called social media" has the same energy as:  
> 
> 
> 3\. My spring break starts tomorrow and I'll be going on a cruise on Thursday. Is there a way I can schedule a chapter for Friday on AO3? I know there's an option to set the date a chapter was published, but I'm not sure if it's a tool to schedule an update. If you know of a way, let me know. Otherwise, I might try to update the chapter when we reach the port (which should be Saturday, I think). Either way, check my Tumblr on Friday, because the update will definitely be on there :)
> 
> 4\. Happy International Women's Day to all my women readers! Let's go higher, further, faster, baby! :D (I'm going to see Captain Marvel tonight and I'M SO PUMPED HOLY SHIT. HIT ME UP ON TUMBLR IF YOU WANT TO DISCUSS THE MOVIE!!!)
> 
> 5\. Also, SHIT, thank you so much for 10k hits!!! I'm floored and honestly surprised you're still with a story that's gone on for 140k words without even a kiss. You're all mad masochists, honestly, but I love you <3


	29. That Time We Had a Breakfast Briefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally chat with Loki after the hearing. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/183634240027/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-29).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the next day after the hearing/last chapter.

The sunlight was blinding me. I had slept badly the night before the hearing and the night after, so all I wanted to do was squeeze in a nap, but the light made that impossible. I could have drawn the shade over the window of the private jet Tony had put us on, except that Loki was guarding the shade with his life. He was staring out of the window with maximum concentration, even though he couldn’t see anything but white fluff.

The guards had retreated to the front of the jet, leaving us alone – and miserable – in the back. I was made to sit on the outside to give my leg some space, which was why I wasn’t able to monopolise the window shade. Shutting my eyes wasn’t enough and squeezing them shut was hardly conducive to rest. Turning my head away didn’t help much either. After much lip-licking and pleading with my eyes were ignored – or rather, treated as if they hadn’t even been noticed – I decided to bite the bullet.

“Could you – could you please pull down the shade?”

Cricket noises.

“Please, I’m trying to sleep and the light is disturbing me.”

Cricket noises intensified.

“Please?”

He didn’t even bother to tip his head. He sure knew how to keep a grudge. Then again, so did I. That is partly what had got us into this mess. I had spent the whole of last night rehearsing what I’d say and pumping myself up to actually say during the flight. It had worked last night, but my courage failed me today. Several times, I opened my mouth, only to clamp it shut again. I was sweating while he sat as cool and immovable as ever. Apologising was never easy, but he made it even more difficult. I hated how much control he had over me, how he could throw me off so easily and yet, yet…

I sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “I’m sorry.”

My heart was pounding and there was an unpleasant tension in my jaw. There was no response   from him. I felt stupid, but I was going to feel even stupider if I didn’t continue.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up those two individuals,” I continued, deliberately not naming Mary and the mysterious Amora in case the guards were listening. “Yes, I felt very hurt and angry about some of the things you’d said, but I should have responded directly to those instead of bringing up personal stuff. I should have also not brought up prior events after I had accepted your apology and told you I would try to trust you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Nothing.

I winced as I swallowed the lump in my throat. My palms were sweating and probably leaving sweat stains on my skirt. “Please say something.”

And then slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head towards me. My heart pounded even faster.

“What would you have me say?”

I waited for him to continue, but it became clear it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I… you… anything. Anything.”

He looked at me neutrally. Then, his lips curved into a sneer.

“What would you have me do? Forgive you? You would like that, wouldn’t you? You would get to walk away, head held high, having been _graciously_ pardoned by Loki of Asgard, while wretched I would be _languishing_ without your forgiveness. You would love to stand tall above me, wouldn’t you?” 

The lump in my throat became more painful. “No, I’m not asking you to forgive me. Just… give me a chance to make it up to you.”

“You want to give you a chance to make it up to me, then why not accept you are in my debt?”

He looked at me mockingly and I understood he was trying to get a rise out of me. Any other day, I would have rained fire on him and he brimstone on me and we would’ve slipped back into a vicious circle of distrust and dislike. But not today. Fighting fire with fire was not in my advantage because Loki would always win. He was capable of far more vitriol. He would always get to me. But I was done having knee-jerk reactions and I was done playing games. I wanted a conversation – like the one I had got when he had soothed me after my nightmare.

“And what then? What if I do accept I am in your debt. What will you ask of me?”

His face remained impassive, but clearly, he was thinking over the idea. Finally, he said, “You will not accept, hence it does not matter.”

“Look, you don’t have to forgive me and you don’t even have to accept my apology. Just know that I am sorry and that this won’t happen again. I hope we can be friends again.”

Even as I said the word ‘friends,’ I stiffened. Our association was complicated. Were we friends? We were past being enemies – if we had been that in the first place. We were definitely not frenemies – that had too much of a buddy cop movie vibe, and this had been anything but a comedy.

“’Friends,’” Loki mused. “Is that what we are?” 

I shrugged. “You tell me.”

“No. We are not.”

That hit me harder than it should have. Yes, I clearly had feelings for him, but I was still making up my mind about him. I should not have been so affected. “Okay,” I said, trying to imitate his toneless voice and excellent poker face, “Well, I hope we can go back to a good professional relationship.”

“We do not have any good relationship, professional or not.” 

I sighed and looked away. I could feel his eyes on me and it took every ounce of willpower to not cave in and look back at him. Finally, he spoke.

“Giving up so easily. You mortals have no backbone. Very well,” I saw him lean forward out of the corner of my eye, “Let us strike a bargain. If you forgive me, I will forgive you.”

All intentions to keep my cool almost evaporated. “Loki,” I protested, “this isn’t a quid pro quo.”

“Why not? This is how we negotiate treaties in diplomacy. We give some and we get some.”

“This is not a diplomatic mission. There is nothing to be negotiated here.” 

“There is something to be negotiated everywhere.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness unless you really mean it.”

“What makes you think I will not mean it? A deal well struck is a deal worth being carried out.”

“It. Is. Not. A. Deal.”

“Very well,” he said and turned back to the window.

I stared at him in despair. “Loki, please, we need to talk.” 

“We have nothing more to talk about.”

I took in a shuddering breath. Maybe one day I could put myself out there and be vulnerable without tearing up, but today was not the day. I furiously blinked the tears away as I choked out, “Loki, _please._ I’m tired of always arguing. I’m tired of hating you one moment and liking you the next. I’m tired of you treating me like I matter one moment and then treating me like I’m less than the dirt under your shoes the next. I am fed up – _fed up_ – of this constant back and forth. I just want to know what to feel about you, damn it!”

I bit my tongue as I realised my odd choice of words. He turned his head back towards me and I stared back at him, trying to appear nonchalant but miserably failing.

Like a shark who had smelled blood, he circled around me. “And what do you _want_ to feel?”

My heart pounded. “Nothing.” I was digging myself deeper into a grave with every word I spoke.

“Nothing?”

“I mean, I don’t know what to think of you,” I babbled, “You’re all this, this, complicated mess –”

“Lies,” he drawled.

“It’s not a lie!”

“Do _not_ lie to me,” he hissed.

I recoiled at the naked fury in his eyes. He kept glaring at me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. As my breathing settled and coherence returned, I mustered my thoughts. “I want to hate you.”

The flashing in his eyes dullened and settled into something cold and implacable. I gulped and continued.

“I want to hate you for what you did to me – and others. I want to hate you for what you said to me a few days ago – and have said to me further in the past. I want to hate you for what you did to Caitlin Michaels.” There was the briefest look of surprise and stiffening of his posture before he relaxed. “But I can’t! I can’t hate you, because I can’t ignore how good you have been to me. I wish I could. I know the good you’ve done doesn’t cancel out the bad, but I wish it did, because I don’t want to hate you.” 

He scoffed. “Make up your mind, woman.”

I leaned forward, unwilling to let him just dismiss this away. “Why did you do that to her?”

He tilted his head. “Do what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, more patiently than I was feeling.

He rolled his eyes. “What does it matter? You will not believe me.”

“Tell me!”

“I cannot change your mind. You are set on your convictions.”

“Just tell me!”

“You have your own truth that you will believe no matter what.”

“Enough games! Just tell me plainly for once, goddamn it!” I snapped and raised my hand to swat his knee.

Before I was even midway his caught mine in a death grip. He was panting and had a crazed look in his eyes.

“Loki!”

The crazed look in his eyes vanished and his body relaxed as if some great pressure had been lifted off him.

“Don’t – don’t do that,” he muttered.

“Okay,” I said cautiously, cradling my hand to my chest, “okay, I won’t.”

He stared at me intently and then lunged forward to grab my right hand. Before I could even think of screaming, a green light enveloped my hand and then a second later, he let it go. I flexed it experimentally and realised the pain was gone.

“Thanks,” I said, mentally kicking myself for thanking him even though he’d been the one to hurt me. Then again, it didn’t look like he’d hurt me to inflict pain. It looked like an instinctive reaction. Curiouser and curiouser.

He had turned towards the window again. “It is nothing,” he waved his hand.

I looked away, unsure of how to carry on the conversation after this. We were at an impasse. But not too long after, he spoke.

“I only knew she was deathly afraid of bees. I had no idea their sting would produce such a strong physical reaction from her,” he said heavily.

I looked at him expectantly, silently willing him to continue. 

“She was the most talented of the jesters Stark had sent my way. Calm, poised, stoic – not unlike your own Stella. Stark and Stella both adored her. I could not stand how intractable she was. No threat and no mischief produced any emotion from her. And so, when I discovered she feared bees, I thought it was the funniest thing in the Nine Realms. How could anyone fear those tiny insects? I was laughing too hard at her panic to notice that she had disturbed them and that they had turned aggressive. I am not well versed with Midgardian physiology and medicine, so I could not help her myself. All I could do was bark at the SHIELD agents to fetch help.”

I wanted to slap him. How could he sound so woebegone when _he_ was the one responsible for what had happened? But I could also sense genuine regret and self-reproach there. Still, there was a lot else bothering me.

“When was this? I mean, was she right before me?”

“She was the fifth of your lot.”

“I see.”

It was my turn to look away. Tony had known about what had happened to Caitlin and still he had decided to hire someone to fill the position, knowing that he could be putting someone in danger. And that someone had been me – and I had been put in danger, only this time, it was deliberate. Yes, it was my fault that I had never asked about the people who’d previously held the post, but he – and Stella, and HR – owed it to me to tell me in the orientation week, if not during my interview, what could go wrong. 

“What are you thinking?” Loki asked.

“Hmm? Nothing.”

“Why do you insist on lying to me? Has that done you any good so far?”

I turned back to him, frowning. “So all that with Caitlin happened and you still decided that the best way to greet me on my first day was to attack me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I did not attack you. I was merely toying with you. If I wanted to attack you, then you would have been in a world of pain.”

I made a disgusted sound. “At least have the decency to not gaslight me!”

His eyes narrowed further, clearly not having understood the word but having judged by my tone that it was nothing pleasant.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“It is when you manipulate people to make them question their own memory and perception of events.”

“I am not ‘gaslighting’ you. I am telling you things as they happened.”

“Oh, so it’s not a matter of your truth versus my truth, then?”

“Do not mock me, I –”

“Oh, stuff it, I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“Why? Because you cannot stand to be hear how wrong you are? Because you cannot find it in yourself to get over the past no matter how high or mighty you want to act?” 

“At least I’m not the one treating forgiveness like it’s a barter exchange.”

“And what is wrong with that? At least I am not making any bones about my moral compass. You, on the other hand –”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Loki,” I said sharply, all desire of making things right extinguished.

I shouldn’t have got so worked up. I shouldn’t have decided to broach the topic. I shouldn’t have had feelings for him in the first place. To my surprise, Loki did not berate me for ignoring or dismissing him. Instead, we sat in silence. The only thing that was audible was the light rumble of the plane’s engines. I was counting down the minutes to when we would land. I wanted to pull out my phone and check the time, but I didn’t want to give my desperation away.

“The problem,” Loki spoke up after a long while, making me jump in my seat, “is that we are too alike in some ways.”

“I’m nothing like you,” I retorted. It was the only thing I was capable of saying in my shock. I wasn’t outraged as much as I was bewildered. How could someone like him and someone like me be similar?

“In some ways, you are,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“How?” I asked, both intrigued and terrified to hear the answer.

“We both are stubborn. We both find it hard to forgive and even if we do forgive, we never forget. We both say a lot less than we think. We both feel intensely, but we do not allow ourselves to feel. And if we do, we temper it down outwardly. We like to be governed by logic, but are often, though not always, governed by our emotions. We try to divert the topic when we do not wish to give an answer. We have sharp tongues which get even sharper when we are angered. We are demanding. And we both vacillate between knowing we are capable and knowing we will not be capable enough. Do you disagree?”

“I… you… I…” I stared at him, grasping for words. “That, that could be anyone.”

He leaned forward, fixing me in place with his eyes. “Maybe. This ridiculous planet has six billion people, after all. But right now, I am talking about you and I. So tell me: do you disagree?”

I was caught between the devil and the deep sea. To disagree would mean I would have to provide three pieces of evidence, a PowerPoint presentation, a proposal and a blood sacrifice to convince him why he was wrong. To agree would be to finally understand and accept what I felt for him, because it wasn’t just about him consoling me after a nightmare or colouring with me. It was about me finding a kindred spirit in him – and that was far more unacceptable than just liking him because he made me feel good.

“Yeah, I do,” I said. “I’m nicer than you.”

To my surprise, he chuckled. “Never denied it and never will.”

“And I don’t go about insulting people.”

“No,” he agreed, “but you do not suffer fools gladly, just like me.”

“I am _not_ like you.”

“How can you not be? Especially now that you are so distressed when you have nowhere to hide, when you are being forced to confront the facts, when you are forced to be so vulnerable. Not because you are afraid of what you will show, but because you are afraid of _how much_ you will show.”

How dare he? How dare he dissect me like this? How dare he act as if he knows me? How dare he make me feel anything for him? Worst of all, how dare he be right?

“Is this why you didn’t return to the hospital for four days after that night?” I asked pointedly.

A myriad of emotions flitted across his face: surprise, anger, annoyance, and finally, settled on amusement. He grinned, baring his teeth as if he were a predator who had just stumbled upon his next meal.

“Careful, little Valkyrie. This is one battle you _will_ lose.”

I scowled at him. “So?” I spat. “What’s the point of this? What’s the ‘aha moment?’ Why go on this big ass soliloquy?”

“You are truly cute when you are flustered.” He grinned.

“Shut up and answer me!”

“To surmise that _perhaps_ you are right.”

I raised an eyebrow, half-surprised that he said I was right about something and half-confused what he was building up to. “What?”

“You are right. We need to stop playing games. This constant arguing and fighting is counter-productive. We are alike, so we should not be fighting against each other – although, it will make for an interesting game, I am sure; I will win because I am the God of Mischief, after all. But no, we should fight alongside each other. I, a god, and you, my shield maiden, can accomplish so much together.”

I shook my head, unable to keep up with his leaps in logic and shift in mood and his delusional dependence to Norse analogies to make his point. “You’re mad. Mad.”

He beamed. “Oh, yes!”

“What happened to your stupid bargain?”

He shrugged. “It still stands. I forgive you if you forgive me.”

“And you honestly think I can forgive you after you after you basically said you own me?”

“I did not say I own you.”

“That is what you meant.”

“Oh, and you know all about what I think, do you?”

“You’re the one who said we’re alike.”

“In some respects. But we definitely do not think alike – and I will pray to the Norns that that never comes to pass.”

“Why? Worried I’ll beat you in your own mind games?”

“I do not need to pray for that, because that is a cosmic impossibility.”

“Yeah, right.”

His gaze turned softer and somehow more guarded. “I pray you never become as cruel and jaded as me. I pray you never lose that kindness and spark of life,” he said, his voice thick with unspent emotion.

I realised then that I would never get used to the sight of seeing Loki so – dare I say – emotional.

“Then don’t be cruel to me,” I said, just as softly. “You told me to let you be good to me. Then be good to me.”

He peered into my eyes. I was hit by the eerie sensation of zoning out when you stare deeply into someone’s eyes. That feeling when their eyes are the sole focus point of your vision, yet it feels like you cannot truly take in anything; when you want to break away, but cannot; when time just keeps slipping by and it feels simultaneously like ages and hardly a second since you’ve been staring into each other’s eyes.

Then my stomach rumbled.

His eyes darted to my belly then back to my face. I flushed and looked away.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“You have not eaten.”

“No,” I confessed. “I didn’t sleep well last night, so I overslept in the morning and by the time I got ready, it was too late to eat breakfast.”

He frowned. “You cannot compromise your health like this.”

“It’s okay.”

“It is not.” He waved his hand and instantly, next to me and in front of him, appeared a small table with bread, hardboiled eggs and sausages appeared.

I gaped at the food and at its inventor. “Holy shit!”

“Eat,” he grumbled.

“Holy fucking shit!” I exclaimed and poked the food.

It felt real. It smelt real. I picked up the bread tentatively and took a bite. It even tasted real!

“Holy fucking shit!” I screeched. 

“Will you quiet yourself before the agents assume I am grinding you into a pulp? It is the most basic of spells, nothing more.”

“You realise you can end world hunger, right?”

“No,” he said shortly, “now eat.”

“Seriously, though,” I said between gulps. The food was absolutely delicious. Was Loki a good cook secretly and had only pretended he never cooked? Or was it because magical food tasted great as a rule? “you can end hunger with a snap of your fingers.”

“No, I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“It will take too much effort and I cannot sit around conjuring food for six billion mortals every day.”

“Okay, but you know, this is awesome. And the food is delicious! I can’t remember the last time I had such good bread.”

“I am glad to be at my lady’s service,” he said with a faint smile on his face.

I giggled. And just like that, we were done tearing each other apart. “Okay, but how do you do this? Did you teleport the food from somewhere?”

“I merely arranged the molecules in the optimal arrangement to make up your food.”

“Wow, did you just dream up the molecules? Because I’ve read that you can’t create or destroy matter, only change its form.”

He winced. “Not quite. Your questions are interesting, but I do not know how to properly explain the physics of seiðr to a non-seiðr wielding mortal. There are lots of concepts and ideas that I find difficult to translate even for Banner and Stark’s benefit. Besides, I have a lot more senses than you. I experience the world very differently from you, literally.”

I nodded as I chewed thoughtfully. “Well, Einstein did say that if you can’t explain it to a six-year-old, you don’t understand it yourself. He’s a genius, by the way,” I added after I realised Loki would have no idea who Einstein was.

He shrugged. “I am not this Einstein and I doubt he collected even half the knowledge in his entire life than I collected in my childhood.”

“I was just teasing you, okay? You should stop being so touchy.”

“Same applies for you, darling. Another way we are alike.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re literally going to say this for everything now.”

He grinned. “Not at all; only for things that are relevant.”

I rolled my eyes again and paid him no heed, just focusing on the food. After a little while, he spoke up.

“I liked your questions. I appreciate and value curiosity.”

“Thanks,” I said surprised. And then I remembered. “Speaking of questions, how was your hearing?”

He shrugged. “I do not answer to mortal laws so I was not concerned.”

“Okay, but how did it go?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

There was a long silence before he spoke. “Would you like me to share what happened?”

I looked at him appraisingly. On the one hand, yes, I very much wanted to know what had happened. On the other, his lawyers had probably disbarred him from telling me anything, and Asha would be furious if I asked him anything in turn.

“Yes,” I said, “but your lawyers –”

“I do what I want,” he said abruptly. “Do you want to know or not?”

“Yes, I said so.”

He waved his hand and the table vanished. To my confusion, he stood up and took its place instead. He looked at me in the eye, then at my hand, then back at me, asking for permission. I nodded, intrigued. He picked up my hand and held it to his forehead, sighing and closing his eyes. I was about to ask him what he was doing when I was deluged by a flash of colours. I was back in the senate – except it wasn’t me. It was Loki. These were Loki’s memories, I realised. Questions and answers, actions and reactions flooded through me instantaneously, yet somehow maintained the sequential nature of time. All too soon, he pulled away my hand and put it back in my lap.

I blinked at him, realising I had begun panting. I tried to find the right words, but they weren’t coming. I focused on breathing and once I’d calmed a little, I exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

His nose crinkled. “I show you the entire proceeding in one second without omitting any detail, however small, and _that_ is your reaction?”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed. “That’s amazing! But also, _holy shit_! And also! Loki! You fucked it up! You fucked up your hearing!”

“It matters not.”

“It _does_ matter! They’re going to drag you through the mud and god knows what –”

“Do not worry about that now. How did your hearing go?” 

I bit my lip, still processing these weird but amazing displays of his magic today. “Would you like me to tell you?”

He sensed the unspoken question. “You can show it to me if you like.”

“How?”

“Relax,” he said and placed his hands over my temples, the thumbs over the forehead. I tried not to flinch when his fingers touched me, but failed. He must have noticed, but before I could think any more about it, I was back in the senate again, and this time, it was me giving the testimony. I relived it all, squirming in discomfort and embarrassment but before I could give it much thought, it was over.

“Ah,” he said after a pause. He hadn’t let go of my face.

“Ah,” I replied. I didn’t oppose to it, but it was a strange sensation nonetheless.

“I see you learned about your other predecessors as well.”

“I did.”

His hands finally dropped away. “I regret what happened to Caitlin. It was not my intention to harm her; merely give her the fright of her life.”

“Mhm,” I said drily.

“Truly.”

“Okay.”

“Well, I suppose it is no surprise you do not believe me.”

“Loki…”

“I saw the doubts running in your mind throughout the testimony. You could not hide those from me – nor could you hide those from the senators. I know now that you will never truly get over your doubts, and again, that is because we are both too alike. Yet, I also saw your ardent defense of me – even at the cost of defending your own self.”

Oh god. How much had he seen? How much had he felt? Did he know what I felt for him?

“I suppose.”

He sighed. “Foolish girl. You are wrong to defend me. I do not deserve your compassion and faith.”

That was not the response I’d been expecting. “I thought you wanted me to do that. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along? And, well, it is my job anyway.”

“Forget about your bloody job one moment,” he snarled. “For a woman so astute, you can be painfully obtuse and narrow-minded at times.”

I scowled. “And then you wonder why I don’t like you.”

“Were you defending me just because it was a part of your job?”

“No. I did it because I wanted to. Whatever I said was the truth,” I said, the unflinching acceptance in my voice surprising even myself. “So why are you upset at me saying good stuff about you? Make up your goddamn mind, damn it.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Just because I desire your trust in me and defense of me, it does not mean I am worthy of it.”

Again, not the answer I had been expecting. “Maybe you aren’t,” I said on autopilot. “But you have my defense of you, if nothing else. Will you at least try to prove yourself to be worthy of it?”

This time, he did not make an effort to hide the surprise in his voice or his face. “You should not trust me,” he said, and I fancied I could hear a small tremor in his voice. “I am the God of Mischief and Lies, after all.”

He was right. I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t give him a chance.

“You’re awfully serious at times for a god of mischief, you know. And yes, you are the god of lies, but you can be – and have been – so much more. No more games, Loki. I am giving you a chance. The last chance. Prove to me I’m not wrong, because I know for a fact that we both dislike being wrong.”

He let out a short laugh. “Look who is comparing us now.”

“Just to make a point. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“You make an excellent point. Very well. I will prove myself – if –” I growled and he touched my shoulder. “Please, darling, let me finish. I will prove myself if you promise to form your own opinion of me. I do not want you to think what Stark or Stella or Thor want you to think. I do not want you to think what your friends and family think. I want you to think what _you_ think. Can you do that?”

My heart fluttered in my chest and a warmth spread all over. “Yes,” I said. “I accept. I don’t know why you would care to go through with this, but if –”

He grabbed both my shoulders and positioned me so my torso was facing his. There was a manic light in his eyes that transfixed me as much as it scared me. “Do not doubt I care. _I care_. Perhaps too much.”

I inhaled. He cared – and so did I. Perhaps too much. Definitely too much.

Perhaps we were alike after all.

I knew then that whatever he had done, good or bad, it didn’t matter, for I had seen both sides and I knew what I was dealing with. I would gladly give him this chance and I would take each moment as it came. Wherever this would lead me, I would go readily. Good, bad – they were insufficient. Loki was complex and no single word could describe him. I wanted to learn him myself. I wanted to know him myself. And if I were to be hurt – or even, dare I say, made happy – I wanted to do it myself. No one else was going to dictate what I ought to think of him.

Before my brain could process what it was doing, or talk itself out of doing what it was doing, I bent forward and awkwardly wrapped my good arm around Loki in a loose hug. He stiffened and I was worried he was going to lash out. I took in his scent – clean, pine, minty. His shirt felt soft against my cheek, though I took care to not let my face rest against his shoulder or chest. He was breathing heavily and clearly uncomfortable, so I quickly moved away.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, not looking at him. “I… I know you don’t like being touched… but I just wanted to hug you.”

He said nothing.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I wanted to thank you. Thank you, Loki. Thank you,” I said sincerely, daring to look him in the eye.

There was shock and disbelief – but also perhaps that same intensity and impassioned tenderness that had drawn me to him.

“It’s – it’s,” he licked his lips, “it’s fine.”

He was touch starved, I realised. He wanted to be touched, but he fought against it at the same time. When he had grasped my hand, it had been a defense mechanism as much as it had been surprise that someone was going to touch him. My heart lurched. What had happened to him? He could not have always been like this, surely. I replayed his apology in my head. It couldn’t have been plainer to me now that the reason he didn’t continue with Mary was because he was afraid of being touched. And yet… yet he seemed to welcome my touch, at least when he could see it coming.

He got up stiffly and returned to his original seat, turning his gaze once more towards the window. I turned my gaze towards the rest of the plane. There was no need for additional words. The silence was neither awkward nor companionable; it just was. As we landed and drove back to the city, I imagined what it would be like to properly hug him. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm back!! Apologies for not posting last week, but thank you for understanding! I had every intention to but I just got swept away by the beautiful waves and weather. I missed all your lovely comments but not going to lie, it was nice to take a break from the story. I cannot believe I wrote 28 chapters/143k words without skipping a single week! Special thanks to BirdOfHermes for keeping up with my obnoxious raving about the cruise and for getting me excited to write the story again.
> 
> 2\. In case any of you're interested/want to see my (gasp) face, I've made a short post about my vacation on my Tumblr. Feel free to ask me for more deets. 
> 
> 3\. Hello to all the new readers who've randomly appeared in the last 2 days! I can't wait to see your reaction to the story! As always, let me know what you thought about the chapter! Constructive criticism is welcome!


	30. That Time We Communicated Digitally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You settle back into your normal routine. Read this chapter on [Tumblr.](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/184136418957/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-30)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two weeks after the previous chapter/the hearing.

_“Loki!” I sobbed, “They stole my crutches!”_

_Loki grinned, pure mischief alight on his face. He slid over to me, pulled me into his arms and began aggressively tangoing. I screeched, part delighted, part horrified, as he twirled both of us, clutching me by my waist and lifting me a foot in the air. He set me down and twirled me away and toward, all the while singing:_

I’m burning through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit! I’m travelling at the speed of light! I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!

_I was laughing, I was screaming, I was shouting with joy and then he pulled me in for the coup de grace, dipped me low, my head merely an inch off the floor. He dipped his head, his breath tickling my face. He was close, so close… closer… closer…_

_Wait, why was he wearing a bowtie?_

And then I woke up.

I groaned as I turned off the alarm. The dreams were getting too much. I had had three others like this one in the past two weeks. No matter how hard I tried to finish them or how desperately I wanted them to finish, they never did. Something always went wrong. Perhaps the mere fact that the idea of Loki… doing whatever he was doing in the dreams – I did not even dare to name the action in my mind – was so impossible that my brain could not supply the conclusion.

If I had thought that freedom from the hospital and reduced proximity to Loki would decrease my infatuation, then I had been sorely mistaken. While I had been in the hospital, Loki and the Avengers had moved into a Stark Industries storage facility that Tony had renovated into a mansion in upstate New York. It was a temporary home while the Tower was being repaired, but there was talk that after the recent attack, Tony was planning to make it the Avengers’ permanent home. He did not want a repeat of the city being the collateral damage of an attack targeted at the Avengers.

A lot of employees had already moved back into the Tower, but I was only now just returning to my apartment. The middle floors of the tower, where my apartment had been, had taken the brunt of the attack, and thus had been in no condition to be reinhabitated. Till now, I had been staying in the temporary apartments that Tony had rented for his employees and their families. I had also wanted to spend some time with my loved ones and bring them up to speed on my life these past few months.

My encounters with Loki took a long while and multiple sittings to go through, for they tended to be disrupted by several outbursts and cries of anger, but we finally got through them. My evenings were spent going to physical and speech therapy and to (mandatory) sessions with a therapist. I was weak from my stint at the hospital, but slowly, I began regaining my strength. My arm was halfway to fully recovered and I was learning how to use my knee properly again. My speech was becoming better as well and though I would never admit it, the counseling sessions were helping me as well.

There was a lot I hadn’t told my therapist – including the fact that I had the hots for my client/alien Viking/would-be conqueror. It was also good to reconnect with my friends from work. The half of the team that had been working in the weeks following the attack had now gone on leave, including the Stark Industries’ PR team, which had pitched in. So now, I and the other members fresh from their vacation had not just work for the Avengers, but also Stark Industries, and I had a more important role than ever.

Capitol Hill had still not decided how to proceed with Loki – given that they remembered all too well that they themselves had greenlit Operation Let Loki Redeem Himself. The political apparatus was still in shambles as well. The most that we had got was that all publicity for Loki had to be stopped: this included hospital visits, public appearances, paparazzi appearances and social media presence. Loki had acted nonchalant, but I could tell that he was a little disappointed that he could not visit the hospital anymore. So, I did what little I could do: I visited the hospital on his behalf.

Loki had got some small amount of freedom to move between the upstate mansion and the Tower. We would meet almost every day back in his old apartment. It was intact, but it had developed an air of neglect. We would sit together on his couch – next to each other, rather than facing each other, as in the days of old. 

I would give him updates on the patients and he would make the trinkets for them, which I would take with me the next day to the hospital. We would try to meet in the mornings, yet eventually it became difficult as sometimes my work would take priority or he was not allowed to leave the mansion till a certain time. I realised we needed a way to keep in touch with each other, and so, I decided to teach him text messaging.

His good behaviour had won him the right to own technology, so now he carried a spanking new mobile developed by Stark Industries, designed for high-speed communication – and to track Loki’s movements.

“Alright, this is my number,” I showed it to him. “And this is where you can find me on the contact list. However, I’ll send myself a message from your phone, so you can access my name from your message history the same way you access Thor and Tony’s.”

He nodded. I sent myself a ‘yo’ from his phone and texted him a ‘yo’ back. He surveyed the phone after I handed it back.

“’Yo?’” 

“Oh,” I said, only just remembering he was an alien who had no idea about modern day slang, except for perhaps ‘skank’ and ‘fugly.’ “Um, it’s just a cool way of saying hi, I guess.”

“Cool? Is the temperature significant?”

I blinked. “No, no, oh, by ‘cool’ I just mean… in style. It’s the way a lot of people in my generation might greet their friends.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. So you use this whenever you can’t meet me or want to reschedule, okay?”

“Very well.”

“Do you want me to add a picture of myself so you can remember who I am?”

“Whatever for?”

“Well, you never really address me by my name much. It’s always ‘woman,’ or ‘Midgardian,’ or ‘mortal,’ so I thought you might be confused when you see just my name.”

Loki shut his eyes briefly. “I never thought this were possible, but your sense of humour is worse than Stark’s.”

“Finally!” I exclaimed. “I am better than Tony at something!”

“I said _worse_ , not better.”

“Yes, I’m better at being worse! Also, his sense of humour isn’t bad. It’s just that you don’t understand it.”

“There is nothing to understand.”

“There is; you’re just not willing to appreciate it.”

“Very well, then. Explain his monikers to me. Begin by explaining yours.”

“Well there is this TV show called ‘Scandal’ where the protagonist handles crises and does PR for the President. Though I daresay he might have also named me – nicknamed me – after the song ‘Scandal,’ which tells about all the drama caused and all the media attention someone gets when a scandal breaks out.”

“So what is funny about this?”

I shrugged. “It is witty, it is a nod to pop culture – popular culture – and describes my work accurately. What more do you want?”

He scoffed. “And what about his monikers for me?”

“Well, first up is Reindeer Games. Reindeer games is a movie. And, I suppose, your helmet and its horns reminded him of a reindeer.”

“What is a reindeer?”

Oh, _deer_.

Trying to hide my smile, I said, “Take out your phone.”

He did. I told him how to open the internet and search on google and spelled ‘reindeer’ out for him.

“Why can you not do this yourself?” he asked.

“Remember the last time when I did something with my phone that you did not approve of?” I chimed, my voice a tad too cheerful.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You broke it.”

His look of query gave way to a blank expression and his voice was deceptively light. “As I remember it, you were trying to snitch on me to Stark.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, well, can you blame me?”

“No. So can you blame _me_?”

“You didn’t have to _break_ it,” I grumbled. “Anyway, you need to learn how to do this yourself, so that’s also why we’re doing this. Now press the enter key that’s on the right.”

He did. I watched smugly as he studied the images, horror and anger dawning on his face. “Norns!” he swore.

“ _Horns,_ ” I amended. “Horny Norny!”

Loki didn’t look as pleased with me as I was with myself. “Do not ever say that again. Now, how do I shut this cursed image?”

His reaction made up for the time he broke my phone. “Awww,” I cooed. “Don’t you like seeing a photo of yourself?”

“I will pour ink in your ears while you are sleeping if you do not hold your tongue.”

I stuck out my tongue and showed him how to exit, my glee just as potent despite the threat.

“And what of his other monikers?”

“Well, there is Rock of Ages. I guess you look like an 80s rock star.”

“A what?”

“And all the leather and black hair make you look goth.”

“What?”

“Goth. Oh, god, how do I explain _goth_ to you… Well, just know that it’s someone with dark hair and clothes and pale face.”

Loki looked even less pleased than before.

“Okay!” I said cheerfully, changing the topic. “Now, do you know how to use a phone or is there something else you want to know?”

He shook his head grumpily.

“Cool, I’ll send you memes then. Or actually, no; that will take too much explaining. I will send you photos of puppies.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll make you happy.”

“How?”

“They just will, trust me.”

“I tell you they will not.”

“Kittens, then. Puppies and kittens. And that is the end of that.”

* * *

The day to move back into my apartment came all too soon. Throughout the time I was moving in, I had an uneasy, yet unidentifiable, feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was only when it was done and my family and friends had gone and I was alone that I realised I was melancholy. For so long I had wanted to go back to my normal routine, normal work, normal everything. But now, all I could feel was the stress and despondency that had haunted me in the months before the attack.

The worry and bad memories hadn’t left me while I was away, but now it felt as if they had become reattached to me. The apartment was where I had cried and freaked out and spent sleepless nights and now, all that surrounded me again. I had not realised it while I was still living in it, but now that I had taken a break of sorts and come back to it, I felt all too keenly how miserable I had been for most of my time here.

I went to bed early that night, hoping that sleep would help me escape from my depression, but sleep did not come. Instead, I dreamed. My dreams were full of screams and tears and fears, mostly my own. Sometimes I saw that woman I’d seen getting shot in the stairwell. Often it was me getting shot. Robson would sometimes appear, leading his squad of goons into my apartment and shooting me. And then there was Loki, who would always push me off a height, and I would just keep on falling and falling, until the Hulk crushed me.

I woke up screaming.

The darkness closed around me, suffocating me. I panted and looked around, desperately wishing the darkness away, but it was not going. My breathing became more frantic. My hands reached out to the nearest surface, trying in vain to ground myself. I clutched my hair and face to find that my cheeks were wet from tears. Rolling over, I reached for my phone and flicked through my messages till I found the name I was looking for: Loki. I needed to talk with him. I needed to remind myself that he was more than the monster who had haunted me in life and now, in dreams.

 _Hi,_ I texted.

I stared at the phone. Of course the reply wasn’t going to come. He was probably asleep – like anyone ought to be at two in the morning. Now that I thought about it, I sounded so infantile. I had a nightmare, boo-fucking-hoo. Instead of just brushing it away like any grown-up, here I was, texting a guy.

But before I could toss the phone away, my screen lit up.

 _Why are you up at this hour?_ Loki replied.

Now I felt even stupider. I sounded so ridiculous. He was going to laugh at me. He was going to think me even more useless than he already might be. I was just confirming his opinion of how useless us humans were. He wasn’t even going to understand. Didn’t he keep throwing in my face how he had endured so much more than I ever would?

 _Well?_ Came another text. I could practically hear the imperious impatience in his voice.

Smiling despite myself, I wrote, _Just messing around. Why are you up  
_

_I was reading._

_At this time?_

_You are one to talk._

_Well at least I wasn’t reading_

_What were you doing?_

_I told you, just messing around_

_At this hour?_

_Yes_

_Why are you awake?_

_Why are you?_

_This is a ridiculous conversation. Answer me. This is time for you to be sleeping, not wittering away at your device._

_You’re so grumpy at night. Go read. Bye_

_Woman, tell me what is the matter._

I could just ignore him. Even this conversation had cheered me up enough for me to go back to sleep. But then he would rain fire and brimstone whenever he next saw me, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to deal with that. Part of me wanted to defy him, but the more sensible part of me knew there was no way that was going to end well.

_I had a nightmare._

I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut after I hit sent. God. He was going to hate me. When I opened them, there was a reply there.

_Tell me._

I took in a shuddering breath. _It’s the same. People dying, me falling, Robson executing me, killing me in my apartment, Hulk stomping on me._ And you always betraying me, I thought but didn’t add.

_Stay where you are._

I tried to decipher what the hell he meant by that. “Stay where you are” – what the hell did he mean by that? Where was I going to go? To the moon? At two in the morning? Why even bother saying that? Was this his way of shutting me down? Was there some hidden meaning in this phrase? Was it code? I’d convince myself to put my phone down and try to sleep, but merely seconds later I’d reach for it and stare at the message as if I could make it reveal its secrets that way. His last seen status showed he hadn’t come online since when he had sent that message.

And then Loki appeared next to my beside.

I screamed.

“Stop it,” he commanded, but made no effort to clamp my mouth shut.

After my panic had run its course, I began spluttering, “What the – what the – how – _how are you here?_ ”

He was standing by my bed, hands clasped behind his back, looking around with interested eyes. “It is a projection.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, as I scooped the blankets closer to me. It hadn’t taken me long to realise that wearing nothing but an oversize t-shirt – whose one sleeve had been cut off so that I could put it on without twisting my left arm – didn’t make for the best attire to receive a midnight guest.

“It means that I am not here in the flesh,” he said, finally looking at me, “but my image is here. I am speaking to you from my chambers in Stark’s new facility.

“Is it using your magic?”

“How else would I accomplish this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you could’ve used a VR. One of those computers and TV screens.” 

“I have no need for such primitive technologies.”

“Evidently. Are you going to keep standing?”

“I could have my image sit, if that would comfort you. But you will have to bring a chair as my projection is not corporeal.”

The chair was on the other side of the room. To get to it would involve struggling with the knee brace, not to mention exposing myself in the t-shirt. Besides, I was too cozy in my blankets. There was only one other choice left, wasn’t there? I scooted to the side and patted the space next to me.

“Sit,” I said, and tried to ignore that bubbly feeling in my body when he – rather, his _image_ – sat on my bed. Once he had sat, I spoke, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, we have discussed the issue of my presence in your apartment many times. Would you have preferred me to come in person? That was a riskier proposition.”

“Still! Everyone must be keeping a closer eye on you, now that they know you have your powers.”

“Which is why it took me so long to send my projection. It is child’s play, really. But Stark has been keeping a stricter eye on me and I would rather live under scrutiny with all my powers than under scrutiny with no powers. He has been trying hard to develop mechanisms to sense my seidr, but he does not know what he is doing. And that makes him more dangerous, because I have to be very creative in imagining what he will do in his primitivism. But enough about that oaf; I am here to talk about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

He didn’t look amused. “It is too late in the night to be playing these games.” He kept staring at me till I gave in.

“I told you,” I said, fidgeting with my blanket, “I had a nightmare. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“You are ashamed.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” He cocked his head and I rolled my eyes. “It’s what you say to convey your sarcasm when someone says something very obvious.”

“Why are you ashamed?”

“How can I not be?” I lashed out. “Hundreds of others have suffered worse and here I am, with my healthcare paid for, my therapy paid for and a roof over my head, crying because I fell through a hole in the floor.”

“You told me suffering should not be compared.”

“This isn’t the same.”

“This is exactly the same. Others have their own matters to attend to, and you yours. It is no surprise you are reacting so negatively to this. You have never been exposed to this kind of a trauma in the past.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Yeah, but still. Even if some HYDRA thugs cornered me and planned to execute me, it still shouldn’t bother me this much.”

“Not just any HYDRA thug,” he said and I frowned as I noted the strange quality his voice had taken on, “Robson. Robson was behind them.”

“Yeah, but he was our man on the inside, right? Even if we didn’t know that at the time?”

“And clearly, his betrayal left a mark on your mind,” he gritted his teeth. “He deserves to be in a lot more agony. I should have –”

“What?” I asked, after he trailed off. “What are you talking about?”

“I should have not healed him,” he finished.

I squinted at him. Something seemed off. He was looking at me as neutrally as ever, but I hadn’t missed the growl in his voice, nor how quickly the same growl had disappeared. Still, I couldn’t find anything to question him about.

“Well, you did so on my request and for that I’m grateful,” I said. “And, anyway, I shouldn’t be having these dreams. I’m going to therapy.”

“Is that the charade where you are supposed to tell your woes to this person who pretends they understand what you are going through?”

Someone was a cynic. “Well, that’s what I thought, more or less, but it does help to tell someone about your ‘woes.’”

“How? How does it help? How can they ever understand what you have been through? How can they ever listen without passing judgement or giving useless sympathy?”

“Maybe the point is just to talk so that you’re not bottling it up inside you. I’ve told the therapist things in more detail than I’ve told many others, because I know she’s not going to ever get to know me in ‘real life’ and we will never be friends or be close. She doesn’t know me and I don’t know her. After we’re done, she’ll forget me and never mention me again, and I’ll get to take some tricks to better deal with my stress.”

“Well, clearly, clawing at your wounds is doing you a _world_ of good,” he said caustically.

It stung. I didn’t want his commentary. “Anyway, the fact remains that I just need to calm down and go to sleep.  I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He looked at me curiously. “Why did you message me?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean to ask: why _me_? I am neither a companion you would want to share something so personal with me, nor am I as unknown to you as your therapist that you can tell me anything without worry.”

Busted. Do I tell him the truth – that I wanted to reassure myself that he wasn’t bad? No, that would wreck our already tenuous friendship. Oops, we weren’t friends according to Loki. Our relationship. No, no, no, definitely no. Our association? Too clinical. Our bond? Too touchy-feely. Our… shit.

“I don’t know, man, you were just the last person I’d texted and it’s late, so I just selected your name.”

“Hmm,” he muttered. He didn’t look terribly pleased with the answer, but he didn’t look as if he doubted it either. “Well, in any case, whom better to call upon than the person who, too, suffers from nightmares?”

“What?” I whispered.

“It has been three years for me,” he said, but it sounded like he was talking to himself rather than me, “Three long years. Sometimes it surprises me so much has happened in so little time. I have seen in these three years what our people – _my_ people and _Thor’s_ people – do not see in three thousand. Eternity is terribly slow, little one. Do not let anyone convince you otherwise.”

He was hidden in the darkness. Maybe that was why he was being so forthcoming. This way, he could pretend that he was alone with his thoughts and I could pretend that it was a good friend, an ordinary man in his late-twenties whom I was chatting with late at night. Would we ever confide in each other this way in the daylight? If I were to reach for him right now, would he recoil? Would he clam up?

“You are silent,” he said.

“I’m listening.”

“It has been three years for me, and yet I still dream of past events. It has not even been three months for you. Be gentle with yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“Yes, I suppose that is all we can hope from ourselves: to try. To try to forget the horrors, to try to bury them so that they never see the light of the day.”

“I don’t want to forget them or bury them. Not really.”

“No?”

“No. I just want to move past them. We become who we are because of what we go through, right? I wouldn’t want to forget that.”

“And whom do you think you are now?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably nothing different. But at least we became –” I caught myself.

“Continue.”

There was no wriggling my way out of this one. “We became – we became – we,” I stuttered, trying to find something coherent and not damning to say.

“Yes?” This time, he was definitely mocking me.

“Frie- cordial! We became cordial… towards… each other.”

“ _Cordial_? Cordial,” he mused. “Is that what we are, cordial?”

“Well, you said we’re not friends,” I muttered sulkily.

“Prickly, aren’t we?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I agree. But tell me, is it _cordial_ to have a strange man in your bed in the middle of the night?”

I was grateful for the darkness, for I could hide my embarrassment and panicked looking about helter-skelter. “Okay, first, you’re not _in_ my bed, you’re _on_ it; and second, you invited yourself over, not I.”

“Would you rather I leave?”

“No!” I said, a little too vehemently. “No.”

He chuckled and my embarrassment deepened. Now that I couldn’t see him, I could focus even more on his voice. It was perfect. It wasn’t too deep and it could turn to the higher notes easily. His accent helped matters too, even though I couldn’t figure out why a Viking from space had an English accent. To quote Dan Brown, his voice was chocolate for the ears. The richest, darkest, most velveteen chocolate for the ears. 

I remembered how he had called me ‘darling’ on the flight. He had called me that before as well, but it had always been patronising. The instance on the flight, however, sounded genuine. Did it come with the accent – referring to people as ‘my friend,’ ‘love,’ ‘darling?’ It didn’t matter. All I knew was that I’d very, very much like to hear him call me darling again.

I had been so busy singing praises of his voice that I hadn’t heard his question. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, what would you wish to talk about?” he repeated, sounding none too pleased about it.

“Um…” I trailed off. “I don’t know. What do you dream about?”

It produced exactly the reaction I thought it would: he went rigid and his voice became more guarded. “Why is that important?”

“It’s not. I just thought that you know what I dream about, so if you wanted to –”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” I didn’t dare to say anything after that, but he filled the silence after a while.

“You could force me to tell you. You could say that telling you about my nightmares would help convince you that I am worthy of your defense and trust in me.”

“How is that possible?”

 

“You could make a case.”

“No, I couldn’t. I’m not going to make you do anything, especially if it’s so personal to you.”

“Then you are naïve. That is what I would do.”

“If being decent is being naïve, then fine, I’m naïve. You and I are maybe alike in some ways, but we’re also different. And even if I did make you tell me, it would mean I wouldn’t be worthy of _your_ trust and confidence. Besides,” I scoffed, “no one can _force_ you to do anything.”

He chuckled bitterly. “That is what I told myself. That is the lie I told myself. But I was wrong.”

I remained quiet, letting him decide what he wanted to do. He continued.

“I dream of the months between when I left Asgard and came to Midgard, when I was more alone than I thought anyone could ever be. I dream of pain and agony, both within and without. I dream of being the monster that mothers warned their children about. I dream of failing, of never being good enough. And, I too dream of falling, endlessly falling, till I wake up back in the cold dark hovels of Sanctuary and wait for it all to begin again.”

He sat so still that I doubted he still was here. Anguish, the likes of which I had never seen in anyone before or thought him to be capable of, poured out of him and chilled me, even though I was huddled in my blankets. I wanted to ask him again what had happened to him, but I did not, for I knew it had cost him much to reveal even this to me. I bent forward, trying to find his hand. It was too dark to see where his hand was, but it mattered little, for as soon as my fingers reached him, there was a strange green shimmer. The silhouette lit up and distorted and then vanished.

I cried out, only now remembering it was an illusion. I stared at where he’d been for ten minutes, wondering if he’d come back. Would it be possible for him to? Would he want to? Perhaps he had deliberately vanished before I could’ve touched him.

Then, my doorbell rang.

Without even bothering to put my knee brace on, I jumped out of my bed and hopped to the door. I pulled it open and there he was, looking down at me.

“I made you walk all the way from your bed in the dark,” he said. “I am sorry. It is just that I was brought up to have better manners than to appear in a lady’s bedchamber without having her permission.”

“But you already appeared as that… virtual reality thingy.”

He winked. “I am still the God of Mischief, am I not?”

I rolled my eyes and let him in, looking away so that he didn’t see the sappy smile on my face.

“Allow me to assist you,” he said.

I didn’t need his help, not really. But was I going to say no? No. So, I let him hold my arm and place his hand on my back to support me on the way back to my bedroom. Of course, it was only when he touched me that my brain reminded me I was wearing nothing but my tee. I twitched when I felt his touch through the cotton. Once we got to the bed, he offered to help me in, but I was too conscious about the tee rising too high over my thighs, so I declined.

Once I’d settled in, he stood by my bed, trying to decide where to stay. I kept looking at him while he hesitated. Finally, he sat in the same spot as his illusion. This time, I felt the bed dip slightly under his weight.

“Do you want me to turn on the lights?” he asked.

“No, I prefer the dark.”

“I as well. You can pretend no one else is around you as you open yourself up.” 

“My thoughts, more or less,” I sighed. “Did you teleport here?”

“Yes. And before you ask, no, Stark does not know.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I am Loki of Asgard.”

“And?”

“And what? That tells you everything.”

“If you say so.”

“Usually my illusions are more durable. They do not dissolve on touch. But I had to be more cautious today.”

“And now you’ve decided to teleport.”

“Do not bother yourself with that. I have accomplished it without raising any alarms, that is all you need to know.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. Then, I yawned. “Wait, what time is it?” I fumbled around for my phone and turned it on. The light from the screen lit up the room and I startled as I realised Loki was sitting much closer to me than I’d thought. “It’s three-thirty.” 

“It is late. You should go to sleep.”

“Yeah, I should.” I cleared my throat. “Thank you… thank you for speaking with me. Thank you for sharing… that.”

This time when I reached out, my hand found his. I gave it a squeeze and then withdrew.

“I did not share much,” he said hollowly.

“But it was a lot for you, especially compared to how you’ve told me absolutely nothing in the past.”

He thought over that for a while, then nodded and stood up slowly. He stared down at me, then finally blurted, “Why did you hug me on the plane?”

“I… what?” I stumbled. “It just felt like the thing to do! I know you didn’t like it, and I promise I’ll –”

“I never said that.”

“Never said what?”

“Never said that I did not like it.” 

“Oh.”

He was still staring down at me, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I could imagine his sculpted jaw also tensing and relaxing at the same time. He looked like he wanted to say something but was unable or unwilling to. It made sense why he did not like being touched. He had never said it in as many words, but it was clear he had been tortured. Yet, he still wanted it, at least if he saw it coming.

So was this his way of asking without asking? He was so precise and exacting when demanding commanding or commanding something and yet, he was so lost that he couldn’t ask for a simple hug. My heart swelled with pity.

Slowly, more to give him time to escape than because the effort exhausted me, I stood up. My guess must have been correct, for he took only a small step back, giving me space to stand. I looked him in the eye, trying to make myself appear as harmless as possible. His gaze burned holes into me. I spread my arms slowly and took half a step towards him, giving him time to reconsider. Neither the fire in his gaze nor the rigidity of his stance changed. And then, I wrapped my arms very loosely around him.

I didn’t let my arms touch him, nor did I let our torsos come in contact. His breathing did not change and he didn’t stiffen, so it was a good sign. But, as the moments passed and he did nothing, I wondered if I had been wrong. I lowered my arms, but before I could let go, his hand grazed my lower back. This time, it was I who flinched. Before he could interpret it as anything negative, I brought my arms and my body closer. Slowly, gently, I lulled him into the hug until my arms were wrapped around his upper back and my head rested lightly against his chest.

I sighed as I felt his hands flush against my upper and lower back. Where his gaze had burned, his touch only cooled. But the coolness was replaced by warmth as his hands started stroking my back. I sighed louder and pressed my head closer against his body, inhaling his scent. He smelled like pine and peppermint. As his touch grew surer and firmer, my body became more and more heated until finally I could not stand it and I broke away.

He didn’t let me go completely. He held me by my arms and ran his eyes over my body, painstakingly roaming over every inch. Maybe I did the same, maybe I just kept looking at his face. All I knew was that I had never been so self-conscious, yet so unabashed at the same time.

The heat reached a fever pitch when he held my face in his hands. He bent forward till our faces were mere inches apart, his breath cool on my face, and whispered, “No more nightmares, little Valkyrie.”

And then in the blink of an eye, he was gone, and I didn’t have to wonder anymore what it would be like to hug Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes, I'm still alive. Life happened. Life is still happening. Thank you to the people who checked in. There will definitely be an update next week, but I'm not sure about April 26 (since I'm catching the matinee showing of Endgame). There should be an update on May 3rd and 10th. Probably no update on May 17th since it's commencement weekend and I want to enjoy finishing four years of suffering. I strongly encourage you to check for update status on Tumblr. One, because I'll respond quicker there and two, because I like chatting with you all outside of AO3.
> 
> 2\. The dream sequence is inspired by this lovely video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egxIaFVr59Y
> 
> 3\. Love you all and take care. Also, there's this new story that I'm working on, [Wintercearig](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/183875141952/saiansha-wintercearig-old-english-n-a) so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> 4\. Thank you for getting me to 1000 kudos. It really means a lot to me <3 Here's to a couple hundred more :*


	31. That Time We Dealt With Workplace Harassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue settling into your routine and easing up around Loki. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](http://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/184302290122/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-31).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two weeks after the previous chapter.

We didn’t discuss the hug. I hadn’t expected any different, but it hurt all the same. He must have been too embarrassed, or it was simply that it wasn’t in his nature to discuss his own feelings. So, I carried on, wondering without break over the next two weeks if it had been a mistake on my part as well to let myself be so vulnerable. A part of me wanted to broach the topic, but the part of me that didn’t was split between the reason why I shouldn’t broach it. Half of me said I should not broach it because Loki didn’t want to broach it. The other said that I shouldn’t broach it because why would I want to voice out loud that I hugged _Loki_.

So, I concentrated on my work. I was busy, but the pace of work wasn’t punishing. I had started conducting daily breakfast briefings for the media, where I would informally brief journalists from certain outlets about what the latest was in renovating the city, the HYDRA/SHIELD investigations, Nat and Cap’s testimony and, of course, Loki. I had become the go-to person for anything Loki related, or even anything Avengers related. My newfound popularity did not just extend to journalists – it also extended to social media. My Twitter was swamped with followers, my Facebook full of friend requests and my LinkedIn overwhelmed with connection invitations.

It was an interesting phenomenon. A lot of people whom I’d known earlier had unfriended/unfollowed/unconnected me. Obviously, they hadn’t taken kindly to me hiding such an important and dangerous secret. But twice that number had begun thronging around me. My best friends were mindblown, my friends loved bragging about knowing me and my university and high school were already in a tizzy about showing off that I’d studied with them. Even the Public Relations Society of America had come a-ringing.

Life was good. Besides the breakfast briefings, I had begun working on updating the crisis communication plan, compiling damage and organisational reports about the recent crisis, how our communication plan had unfolded and what the results of our actions were, and what lessons we could take away. Those of us working had started brainstorming ideas for creating a video series on what our employees had done during the crisis. When I was not tracking media coverage and responding to inquiries, I had started taking a shot at creating a social media calendar for Loki.

* * *

We were sitting at the kitchen counter in my apartment one night, when I decided to do it. Sitting across him reminded me of those nights before the attack he had inflicted his presence, but there was no hostility involved now. Quite the opposite, for I was more than glad to have him. I still fretted about him being discovered, but kept my worries to myself, for he had started getting very crabby whenever I brought it up.

“So,” I said excitedly, “this is an Oreo.”

“An Oreo,” he repeated.

“Yes. It is a chocolate biscuit filled with cream,” I held one out to him.

For some reason, I had been watching a video compilation on the different ways to eat an Oreo. And, of course, then I had envisioned Loki eating an Oreo in the most extra, undignified and infantile way possible. He would never know, though. What he didn’t know would never hurt him.

“So here is how you eat one. Step one, you rub the two halves against each other. Gently. Make sure to not break the biscuit or squash the cream out.” I demonstrated and he followed carefully. He looked so studious. It almost broke my heart that I was subjecting him to such a prank. Almost.

“Step two, you pry apart the halves of the biscuits. Again, be careful.” He followed me again.

And now, for the coup de grace. “Step three, bring the half with the cream to your mouth and lick the cream off.”

He frowned. “Lick it?”

“Yes,” I said, keeping up an impressive poker face, “lick it.”

“Why?”

“It’s just the custom. It’s the right way to eat an Oreo. There are many other ways to eat an Oreo, but this is the most fundamental way that everyone should know.”

His frown deepened.

“What?” I asked, faux disappointed. “Fine. Don’t eat it then. I thought you were interested in learning more about our world, but I guess I was wrong.” I put my hand over the packet, but before I could pull it towards me, Loki’s hand came down upon mine, trapping it in place. A tingle ran up my spine, which I tried to ignore.

“Pardon me, I was just taken aback. But I assure you, I am very interested in learning more.”

He squeezed my hand and I couldn’t stop an idiotic smile from coming over my face. He kept looking at me and I started fidgeting.

“Well, go on, then,” I mumbled, tucking my hair behind my ear and trying to slide my hand from under his. He let me withdraw it.

“You need to show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me how to eat it.” 

All of a sudden, my idea did not seem so brilliant anymore. Yet, if I did not proceed, it would raise even more questions. Truly caught between the devil and the deep sea, I brought the half up to my lips and gave the cream a tentative lick.

He maintained eye contact as he brought the half to his mouth ever so slowly. And then, he parted his lips and carefully, thoughtfully, brought his tongue in contact with the cream. His lick had none of the tentativeness of mine; it was sure and thorough. His tongue swept across the biscuit and lapped up half the cream – and all this while, he peered at me intensely, as if he knew what effect he was having on me. My fingers clenched so hard that my biscuit broke.

“Your biscuit has broken,” he remarked, his voice as smooth as the cream.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Take another one.” 

I reached for the packet and took out another one, dreading what was coming next.

“Open it.”

I did, with shaky fingers, almost breaking another biscuit.

Once I’d separated the halves, he said, “Lick it.”

There was no refusing him, not when he commanded me in that dulcet baritone. I was convinced he had seen me practically drooling. I wanted to look down, but for some reason, I could not break away from his gaze. I stared into his eyes, his own boring into mine. I brought up the cream-coated half to my lips and licked the cream, with none of the grace and… _sensuality_ of his, but it was done.

His voice was deeper than before when he asked, “What next?”

“You put the halves together,” I said, finally looking away, “and eat it.”

He copied me, reassembling the halves and bringing them to his lips. He ate it neatly, holding the biscuit only between his index finger and thumb, the fingers brushing against his lips as if he were in thought. He reclined a little, one leg crossed over the other, looking more regal than I’d thought kings could look.

“Did you like it?” I finally managed to ask.

In lieu of an answer, he pulled another biscuit and proceeded to eat it the same way. My heart almost gave out. I fumbled for my phone and glared at it, trying to distract myself. None of the memes were helping. It was a while before the worst of this weird pang schoolgirl infatuation dissipated. I covertly angled my phone and started recording him eating the Oreos. He was no longer looking at me and I allowed myself a tiny smile as I recorded the small video, thinking of all the possibilities of blackmail and/or social media reactions.

I also allowed myself a tiny smile while rewatching the video before going to sleep that night.

* * *

There was a new text from Loki.

_Stark is up to something._

_wdym_ I typed, then deleted it and changed it to, “What do you mean?” since I doubted Loki was familiar with texting slang.

 _He is on edge and is constantly muttering about how bored he is,_ came the reply after a minute. Loki had still not got used to texting, so his replies came somewhat slowly. _He has also been snapping at Virginia and she has been snapping back at him._

 _Omg_ , I typed and hit ‘send’ before I could reevaluate the text. I waited, curious to see what Loki would respond.

A few minutes later, he replied: _What does that mean?_

 _omg = oh my god._

_I see._

_Can’t you come over to the Tower?_

_No. Stark, in his fit of temper, has denied me the right to use a car._

_Loki_

A few seconds later came the reply, _Yes?_

_What did you do?_

Instantaneously, came the reply, _Nothing._

_What did you do?_

A minute, then, _I might have made fun of his back pain._

_…_

_What are the dots supposed to mean?_

I shook my head, unable to stay mad at him. _In this case, it’s to convey my exasperation._

_I see._

_I’ve got to go, but keep me posted._

_Posted?_

_Keep me updated on further information._

_Yes._

With another chuckle, I returned back to work.

* * *

I had settled in my bed in my pyjamas, The Mummy put on my laptop, a bowl of popcorn drenched with butter and a huge glass of lemonade in the bed next to me, when my phone vibrated. 

I guzzled the lemonade, unlocking the phone with the pinky of my left hand and saw a text from Loki.

_Stark is taking me to a strip club._

I had the presence of mind to turn away from my laptop before spitting out my drink. Coughing and gasping, I set down the lemonade and picked up the phone properly. 

_WHAT??!?!_ I typed.

But before I could anticipate a reply, my phone rang. It was Tony fucking Stark.

“Tony?” I said.

“Hey kid, whatcha doin’?”

“Nothing?”

I’d barely got the word out of my mouth when Tony said, “Okay, great! There’s a car coming to pick you up in thirty minutes, get ready to party! Nothing wild, you can barely walk, but yeah, scrub yourself up! We’re going to have so much fun! Oh, and Loki’s going to be there too!”

“What? Why? Where?” I asked, bewildered.

“Oh it’s a strip club.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Yep! We’ll find someone to give you a lap dance!”

“I don’t – I don’t – I don’t want to come!”

“Well, Loki’s going to be there, so I need his PR to be at the ready should shit hit the fan! Don’t worry, there are some other people from work coming! Okay, see you there!”

Before I could get another word in, he disconnected. I gaped at the phone, unable to comprehend if I’d accidentally started drinking Kool-Aid instead of lemonade. My phone vibrated and I saw a deluge of messages from Loki, coupled with utterings of my name.

_What? What are all these punctuation marks?_

_What is a strip club?_

_What has happened?_

_Where are you?_

_Did you fall?_

_Respond to me immediately, woman!_

_I’m here, I’m here, so hold your horses!_ I typed furiously. _Why did you say yes to going with Tony??!?!_

_I did not._

_Then why are you going?!??!_ I said aloud as I typed, getting pissed at the idea of Loki enjoying something like this.

_Stark said he did not trust me to stay alone at the compound and that idiot oaf of a brother of mine convinced him that I needed the excursion._

_jkdfdhgfjdewiuhfdc_ I keyboard smashed, then quickly added a new text, “He’s told me to come too. Got to get ready. See you in a few”

I slid out of my bed, already missing the disgustingly buttery popcorn and the movie that had barely started. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Where are you?_ came the text. 

_In the car, on my way_ , I replied, settled into the plush backseat of the town car. _Who else is coming?_

_Stark’s cohort of copulatives, his bodyguard and some SHIELD agents. So what is a strip club?_

I sighed. I didn’t want to be the one to explain this to him, but I thought it was my duty to educate the poor alien. _It is a place where women strip._

He didn’t reply for a few seconds, which bothered me. _So it is a brothel?_

I groaned. _It’s not supposed to be… but it could be. It’s just where women strip their clothes and dance._

Several more seconds of pause and then: _You mean to say Stark is taking me to a brothel?_

_*Strip club, yes._

_I am going to kill that good for nothing tin man._

_No._

_I do not wish to go to a brothel._

_IT IS NOT A BROTHEL IT IS A STRIP CLUB GDI_

_GDI?_

_Goddamn it_

_I do not wish to go to a strip club._

_Oh just suffer through it, you’ll like it, I’m sure,_ I typed with a sour expression on my face.

_I do not wish to see random women stripping._

_Oh so you have a particular woman in mind or what?_

_No._

I sent in a rolling eyes emoji, my traitorous mind immediately going to Mary and Amora. I didn’t know what Amora looked like. Likely, she was every bit a goddess. I doubted Mary came anywhere close to Amora, but perhaps she was closer than I ever could be, especially now that I was not going to be able to use half my body till god alone knew how long.

 _What is this?_ the text came back.

_It is an expression. When you roll eyes._

_I see._

I stared at the phone but no other reply came. I didn’t want the conversation to be over, so I sent the first thing to come to my mind. _What are you wearing?_

I panicked a little after hitting the send button, then relaxed when I remembered that Loki wasn’t a 21st century human and would thus not interpret that question as a pick-up line.

_Clothes._

I snorted. _Really??? I thought you were going to be the one doing the stripping_

Now we were truly straying into dangerous waters.

_You would like that, wouldn’t you?_

Now was the time to end it. This time, I deliberately put in text slang in my message. _lol you wish_

_lol?_

_Stand for laughing out loud. Sometimes people do laugh out loud, but usually it’s just to show amusement_

I could see he was typing, but before he could send another response, I added, _okay, catch you in a bit_

It was only when I looked into the rearview mirror that I realised I was smiling from ear to ear.

* * *

Maybe I should have encouraged Loki to kill Tony. 

Tony had reserved a private room for twenty people at Seduction, the most exclusive gentleman’s club in the Tristate area. Tony had probably spent as much money in getting us all in, plus on food and drinks, as I spent over the entire month. Sam, John and I made up the communication representatives. There were two people from legal, three from tech, two people on the board for Stark Industries, Happy Hogan and Tony’s PA. The others were the Avengers and Loki.

Why Tony had even bothered coming here escaped me. He was as loyal to Pepper as a lovesick puppy, and though he had an almost-naked woman sitting on either side of him, he wasn’t going to do anything with them. Thor had Jane and though he had looked on with a lot of curiosity at the dances at first, I could see he was steadily becoming uncomfortable. Natasha was sitting with a poker face, looking like she was neither enjoying nor not enjoying herself. I wondered if she was into women, or anyone at all.

Dr. Banner – I was doing my best to not make eye contact with him – shouldn’t have been here because him getting aroused was not going to end well for anybody and I wasn’t looking forward to a repeat of falling through a hole again. To his credit, he was staring fixedly at his drink, probably trying to work out a new equation. Cap looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked like a traumatised puppy and I almost wanted to go over and console him that it would all be over soon.

Loki was not welcoming any advances from the women, but that didn’t stop him from eyeing their gyrations. I pretended he was only interested in their dance as an art form. He sat across from me on the tail end of the couch. Sometimes, his eyes would glaze over as if he were in thought, yet I knew he was fully aware of everything that was going on. Other times, his eyes would travel across the room and I wondered – hoped – he was looking at me. He had a frown on his face most times, yet when he was in thought, or when I imagined he looked at me, it disappeared and he almost looked relaxed.

I was on my second drink of the evening. It had been a long while since I’d last had alcohol and it tasted heavenly. I should’ve probably stopped at one and not ordered a third one while I was guzzling the second, but I was done playing sick. The dances were nice to watch, at least. Because my body was out of order, I didn’t have the luxury of wondering if I should get a dance myself. The other employees were in varying stages of enjoyment. Only two had a woman actually dancing on top of them. The others were talking to the women or just politely sipping their drinks, unsure where to look.

Which left Clint.

Clint had drunk way more than even Tony had. He had been chatting very enthusiastically with the girls, had taken to dancing with them and was currently monopolising the pole. He did a backflip that ended in a split without dislocating any joints. He looked so proud of himself. It would’ve been a cute sight had he not belched. Still, he was a favourite with the club. He was buying everyone drinks, he was tipping the DJ, he was throwing money at the girls and now he was arranging them in a conga line with him in the middle.

After a while, the dances – and even Clint’s antics – had got boring. There were only so many naked girls you could see one night before you got used to the sight, after all. I sighed and turned my attention back to my phone. My friends were too busy going gaga over me attending an Avengers party, as always. I’d got drunk enough to download Tinder, but even that was providing no results. There were no interesting or funny conversations and nothing I could screenshot and share for laughs or eye-rolls with my friends. I was ready to cry from boredom – and alcohol induced emotions – when I saw it.

Loki.

How had I forgotten him? Giggling madly to myself, I pulled up our chat and texted him.

_Hi_

I kept my head bowed, my hair fanning around my face, but through the corner of my eye I saw him reach for his phone and then stare quizzically at it, then me, then back at it.

 _Why are you messaging me when we are in the same room?_ Came the reply

_Because I’m boreddddd_

_Why do you add these random alphabets?_

_Because I can_

_I see._

_Yeeeeet_

_What is that supposed to mean?_

_I wanna yeet out of here_

_I have no idea what half the words in this sentence mean._

_I’m so bored_

_What do you expect me to do about it? Dance on the pole like Barton?_

For the briefest second I imagined him swaggering to the pole, slowly wrapping fingers around it, throwing a pouty look over his shoulder and then swirling around the pole and balancing midair in a perfect arch. I snorted and some of the alcohol came out of my nose and I knew how gross I looked and how embarrassing the situation was, but I still couldn’t help but double over in laughter at the image in my mind.

Loki was not as pleased.

_Stop making a fool of yourself._

It took me a minute to recover my faculties.

_I WANNA GO HOME_

He released a long suffering sigh, stood up and began marching towards the exit. Immediately, Thor, Cap and Nat stood up (Clint was in his own world and Tony was too far gone).

“I am leaving,” Loki stated.

“Not without us, pal,” Nat said.

“DON’T LET HIM LEAVE,” Tony managed to shriek, then fell back face-down on the couch. Dr. Banner came over and positioned him to his side. 

Loki rolled his eyes. Cap glanced at Tony, then back at Loki. “Loki,” Cap began, “I know you are not happy, but –”

“Are you?” Loki growled. “Are you happy with this disgusting debauchery? You look even more ill at ease here then me and Thor.”

Cap winced, not unsympathetic to Loki’s – and his own – plight. “Yes, but we need someone to escort you back to the compound, and right now –”

I saw my opening. “I’ll do it!” I slurred, getting up with a huge amount of effort, “I’ll take him!”

“You’re in quite a state yourself,” Nat said critically.

“I’m his PR, Tony called me to babysit him. Besides, I wanna leave too,” I whined. “Please?”

Nat looked unconvinced, Cap looked unwilling to keep us from freedom yet also unwilling to let Loki loose, so it came down to Thor to save the day. “I think Loki has shown that he can be trusted enough and his PR has shown her competence in more ways than one. Let them go, Steve.”

Steve sighed. Nat opened her mouth to protest, but then, Steve touched her shoulder. “Okay, you can go,” he said, miserably, probably wishing he could join us as well.

I shot all three of them a grateful and apologetic look, then began shuffling out with Loki in tow. The cold air helped clear my mind a bit and it wasn’t too long before our car came over. Loki helped me slide in, then slid in from the other side himself. Our first stop was the compound, and then the driver would drop me back home. It was late at night, so the traffic was relatively light. I watched the lights of the city whizz past us. I’d missed this.

“You should be thanking me,” Loki’s voice broke through my reverie.

“For what?” I asked, distracted.

“For getting us out of that hole.”

I turned around blinked, confused.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated with my slowness. “I said I wanted to leave, knowing full well that they will have someone escort me, which gave you a chance to be the escort.”

I stared at him for a little while, then snorted in laughter.

“What now?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just the way you said ‘to be the escort’ made me sound like a prostitute.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Yeah, we sometimes use ‘escort’ to mean prostitute. And given that we were coming out of a strip club…” I trailed off, grinning cheekily.

“Norns, your race. How could Stark ever call that ‘entertainment?’” 

I shrugged. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“Yes, that is precisely why I sat away from everyone throughout the night.”

“Un-huh! I saw you eyeing those women! I saw you looking at them!”

“So were you.”

“I was admiring the dance. It is an art form.”

“So was I.”

I snorted. I wanted to probe him further. “Well, it’s okay if you were. They were beautiful.”

“I suppose.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Yes, they were beautiful and I suppose they had prepared themselves to match the standards of beauty. But they all looked the same.”

That took me by surprise. “What would you call beautiful?”

He shrugged. “That is hardly relevant.”

“Alright then. Keep your secrets.”

The answer disappointed, but didn’t surprise, me. Had I really expected him to answer that, leave alone give a description of me? Stupid girl. “Okay. What would Asgard call beautiful?”

He chuckled bitterly. “Look at Thor.”

“Ah.”

“And it is the same here, is it not?”

“I guess… but not really. It’s a huge planet with a lot of people.”

“I’ve seen pox marks that are bigger than this planet.”

“Ewww! Gross!” I exclaimed. “Well, the point stands. People have a wide variety of tastes.”

“No, they do not. I have seen how the hordes fawn over Thor and the Captain.”

“Yes, but there are people who… fawn… over others as well.”

“Not from what I have seen.”

I shrugged. Self-pitying idiot, I thought dully. Yes, some people might be into the blond and blue eyed look, but he didn’t know that tall, dark and handsome was a bloody literary trope.

“What?” he asked. “Why are you rolling your eyes?”

“I’m not!” I protested.

“You rolled your eyes so hard that even your neck rotated.”

“No,” I said, turning back to the window.

“Look at me.”

“No,” I said, watching the view outside intently.

“Look at me,” he commanded and grabbed my hand.

“I swear to god, Loki,” I rounded on him, drunk and angry, “Sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect cheekbones and nose!”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Don’t bother,” I huffed, turning back to the window.

“Excuse me?” he asked. “Look at me!”

“Pull over!” I told the driver. “I said, pull over.”

The driver looked at me via the rearview mirror. Loki grabbed my hand and hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Stop the car,” I ordered. When the driver showed no sign of relenting, I started pleading. “Come on, I haven’t been out in the city for over a month. Just let me walk for three blocks, please.”

“You are drunk,” Loki snapped.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not, shut up.” I said loudly over him. “Now,” I turned my attention back to the driver, “stop the car.”

Without looking at Loki, I got out of the car as soon as it came to a standstill. I gulped in the cold air with relish. I had missed this. I had missed this so much. The sight of lights illuminating the way ahead, the dark and damp footpaths, the sound of the cars going by. I had missed just walking aimlessly, letting thoughts tumble upside down in my head. I had missed observing people rush by. I felt happy.

Our car was crawling next to me. Loki hadn’t stepped out. No doubt, he was simmering inside. Good, let him. Right now, as I refamiliarised myself with the city, I could be away from all of it. From Tony and his raucousness, from the ongoing threat of a political shitstorm on the horizon, from friends who just wanted a piece of the Avengers and from Loki and my infatuation with him. I could just be me.

My reverie was interrupted, but not broken, when a voice hollered at me, “Hey beautiful!”

I stiffened, but relaxed the next moment and kept on walking. Admittedly, I had not missed _this_. 

“Ooh babe, c’mere and gimme a kiss!”

Before I could take another step or try to assess if the man had begun following me, I heard the car door slam shut. I turned around shakily. The next thing I saw was Loki, in a lighter version of his armour, holding a frumpy and dirty man by his throat a foot above the ground.

“Bitch, get this crazy motherfucka off me!” he wheezed.

Loki’s hand tightened and the man started coughing and kicking his legs.

“No!” I cried. “Loki, put him down!”

Loki paid me no heed. “I should gouge out your eyes so that you may never sully a woman again with your dirty gaze!”

“NO!” I exclaimed, trying to rush over quickly. The man had turned an alarming shade of blue. “Loki, put him down!”

He finally turned to me in disbelief. “Why? Do you have any idea what heinous thoughts he has of you?”

“Do you?” I asked.

“I can see the images in his mind,” he growled, his grip tightening even more.

I gulped. Of course, he could read minds. “Well,” I said, trying to play it cool, “I’m sure you have had some weird things in your mind as well.”

“What?” he spluttered. “You think that I –”

“Not of me! Or I don’t know, honestly! Look, can you put him down? Please?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not worth my job or your life, that’s why, you bozo!” I exploded. “Put him down. NOW.”

“No.”

“Loki!”

“He was going to hurt you!”

“He was going to do no such thing! Most of them just like verbally harassing women!” 

“Not this one!”

“I had it under control!” 

“By just walking away? Yes, because you definitely have no problem walking properly, do you?”

“Put him down!”

“Why?”

“Because I am not in the mood to try to explain to the world why Loki of Asgard choked a homeless man to death in the open!”

“No one will know!”

“Everyone will know! I am going to say it for the last time, Loki: put. Him. Down.”

“ _Fine!_ You!” he turned back to the man, who looked like he was going to lose consciousness any second now, “Apologise!”

“Loki…” I groaned.

“Apologise!” he growled at the man.

The man was trying to voice something, but was unable to. Loki loosened his hold ever so slightly. “I’m sorry,” he moaned feebly. 

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry!” he said, louder.

Loki turned to me. “Do you accept?” 

“Yes, now put him down!”

Loki lowered him halfway, then let him drop freely the rest of the way. The man writhed and gasped on the ground, clutching his throat.

“Remember your lesson well, you pox-ridden toad. If you ever dare to harass a woman again, I will personally hunt you and strangle you with your innards. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, sir,” he wept.

Loki smirked, very pleased with himself. A golden glow appeared and the armour melted off, leaving behind the black suit he had worn for the night. I stared at him, half incensed and half full of admiration about how effortlessly he put on his armour. At least he had left out the horns this time. 

He turned to me, his face hardening. “Get in the car.”

I was in no mood to prolong this further, and did as he said. I clutched my head, wondering how the evening had taken such a strange turn. I was still pissed with Loki, but I figured I ought to thank him.

“Thank you,” I said after a while.

“’Thank you?’” he asked incredulously. “What are you thanking me for, you silly chit?” 

“For stepping in?”

“It is an obligation. There is nothing to thank me for.”

I shrugged. “Not everyone would have stepped in so… gallantly.”

I didn’t need to be looking at him know he looked aghast. “How can anyone turn a blind eye to such disrespect? Better still, how can anyone be so disrespectful?”

I shrugged again. “Men are pigs. Well, not all men,” I corrected myself, “but enough men. And women too.  I don’t know, we’re messed up. I bet Asgard’s different.”

“It is. The Norns know Asgard has its problems, but nothing as shocking as this.”

“Hmmm,” I mused.

Neither of us said anything more for the rest of the trip. Only when we finally stopped outside the mansion and Loki got off did he say, “Message me when you reach back home.”

It was a very human woman thing to say to your female friends when you were parting ways. Loki didn’t know that, of course, but it was still oddly touching. “I will.”

He looked at me meaningfully, and I knew he was going to teleport into my room in a while. I wasn’t wrong. I came back home to find him sitting in the chair in my bedroom.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

“Traffic,” I sighed.

“What is all this on your bed?”

“My plans for tonight before Tony rudely interrupted them.”

“They came back not too long after me. I believe he threw up at the entrance.”

“Poor Tony. He’s been very stressed.”

“That does not mean he makes everyone else stressed.”

“He deserves to let off some steam. I’m going to change,” I said and slipped into the bathroom before he could make any more comments about Tony.

I emerged ten minutes later in pjyamas, having decided that I definitely wanted to be in more than an oversized tee around Loki. He remained quiet as he watched me shuffle about the room and put my dress back in my closet. I waddled over to the bed, put my laptop on my study table, then picked up the popcorn and the lemonade and put them in the kitchen. Once I’d returned to my room, I settled down on the bed with a sigh. He wasn’t slow to join me.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“Just how weird tonight was.”

“In general?”

“Yes… and, well, you know.”

“I cannot see why my reaction is so surprising to you.”

I sighed and looked up from my knees. “It’s not that I’m not grateful,” I reassured, lightly placing my hand on his arm as I looked up at him, “it’s just that I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I never thought you were.”

“But you might begin feeling that, given how much…”

“How much…?”

“How much you’ve been… doing for me.”

“Rest assured, I would not do it for a ‘damsel in distress.’ And as for what I did tonight, I would have done it for anyone in distress, damsel or not.”

I smiled. “You know, you’re not as much of a goon as you pretend to be.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a compliment.” I squeezed his arm. “I just meant you’re not as much of a bad, mean guy as you like to make others believe.”

“I am every bit as awful as everyone thinks, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a pause. Then, he lowered his head closer to mine. “Would your Dan not have done that?”

I hadn’t forgotten about Dan. I had just been… too embarrassed about my behaviour to write to him. I understood later that he wasn’t at fault and that his reaction was perfectly natural. Before I met Loki and got to know him, I would’ve reacted the same way. I kept telling myself that I would write to him the next day, but the ‘next day’ never came. And now, I didn’t appreciate Loki bringing him up again in this manner. Hadn’t we moved past this?

He must have sensed my displeasure. His hand came close to my face and before I could react, he tucked some strands of my hair behind my ear. “I am genuinely curious.”

I blinked, thrown off by the gesture itself, leave alone how uncharacteristic it seemed of Loki. Then again, had I not just said that he was sweeter than he presented himself to be? I thought my words over before I said them. He removed his hand and placed it on the bed behind my back.

“He would have helped me. But he would probably not have instilled the fear of literal god into that man,” I joked. Before I could dissuade myself, I continued, propelled by the alcohol, “You’re a god anyway, you don’t need to draw comparisons. We’re just mortals, right? You’re different in almost every way, and better in a lot of them. Same about Thor. And you have nice features, you know. Excellent cheekbones and jawline. And your nose is so straight that even plastic surgeons can’t achieve that… level of… straightness.”

I squeezed his arm again.

He looked at me searchingly, his eyes running over my face, its imperfect features. “You have never been so complimentary of me.”

“I have my moments.”

“Or perhaps, you too are nicer than you let on.”

“I am always nice to you.”

“Yes, you are,” he breathed.

He moved closer to me and I realised just how fast my heart was thudding. I had unconsciously turned fully towards him, and he towards me. Now, he was coming closer and closer. My eyes fell shut and I licked my lips. His breath tickled my ear. I tilted my head up, wanting him to come closer, but not sure how close. His breath hit my neck and I arched slightly. His cheek brushed against mine and I had to stop myself from clawing at his back.

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or frustrated that it was just a hug. On the one hand, I was happy to have this, because even though we’d hugged lightly every night for the past two weeks, none of those hugs had been as close and intimate as this one. We’d certainly not had so much contact, nor felt each other’s cheeks. It felt inexplicably good to be enveloped so snugly in his arms. He was solid and tall and broad, and his arms could crush me to pulp, yet his embrace was warm and his touch was soft.

On the other hand, I wanted _more_.

Once the tension had evaporated from my hands, I put them on his back and softly stroked him. He made a sound of contentment, that I felt more than I heard from the rumble of his chest, and his own hands started caressing my back.

I couldn’t help it; I snuggled closer to him. He chuckled quietly – again, I felt it more than heard it – and then he ever so softly kissed my cheek. I froze, out of surprise rather than anything else. It was so soft, so quiet, that he probably didn’t even noticed he’d done it. It hadn’t even been fully on my cheek; more right next to my cheek. But he must have realised he’d done it, for he started retreating. I didn’t want to let him, but I also understood that it was better this way.

“You have nice features too, little Valkyrie,” he said, not hugging me anymore but still touching my arms.

I didn’t know how to react to that compliment, so of course, I went for the obvious choice. “Will you ever tell me what that means?”

He chuckled and slid one hand down to mine, thumbing the knuckles. “Maybe I will tell you tomorrow. But for now, it is time to sleep.”

Then, before I could say anything, he brought my hand to his mouth and softly kissed it – and then vanished. It was just as well he left, for he didn’t hear me shriek in frustration and confusion as I collapsed into my bed. The ghost of his kiss on – next to – my cheek, the kiss on my hand, and the memory of that accursed Oreo video kept me awake late into the night, and it was with much difficulty that I bullied my brain into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So um.... what did you think??? Let me know. Feedback is welcome ^_^
> 
> 2\. I was blushing so hard as I wrote and read that entire Oreo scene XD. Hope it wasn't *too* silly.
> 
> 3\. I have this weird headcanon that because Clint doesn't want anyone to know he's married and a typical family guy, he sometimes goes overboard (whether accidentally or deliberately) to show off his... dudeness, which is what happened here. He's still such a lovable dude though and he's definitely mindful of Laura and the kids even when he's at the club. Nat knows what's up, so she doesn't ask any questions.
> 
> 4\. Most likely no update next week, since ENDGAME, and the week after, because life :(


	32. That Time We Organised a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You organise a party. Read this chapter on [Tumblr.](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/184633460917/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-32)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two weeks after the previous chapter. This one is extra long as a treat.

Another two weeks passed and of course, we did not discuss the kiss, if you could even call it that. It hadn’t been too hard to convince myself that the almost-cheek kiss was just him doing it subconsciously whenever you hugged a friend, (I hoped we were friends, if nothing else, even if he didn’t acknowledge it) and the hand-kiss was just a form of Asgardian courtesy. He certainly didn’t act as if it were anything more than casual. I began seeing a restlessness about him. Even when we were chatting, or doing our own things, he would fidget as if all he wanted to do was leave.

His hugs too became more infrequent. Sometimes, all I would get was a brusque ‘good night,’ and others, the deep, warm hugs that I’d come to love. I didn’t push him into those. Maybe he was ashamed that he craved the contact. Maybe he was irritated he was being so soft around me, a mere mortal. I tried not to dwell on it. I also tried to not dwell over how much I wanted to kiss him, to have him comfortable enough around me so that I could caress his face and stare into his eyes for as long as I wanted.

My train of thought was halted when Tony walked into the office.

“Hey Commies!” he greeted the Communication department. There he was, with the nicknames. “Hey Scandal!” he spotted me and sauntered over to me while singing, “Now you’ve left me, all the world’s gonna know!”

I shook my head in combined embarrassment and amusement.

He plonked himself down next to me and said, “Hiya!”

“Hi, Tony,” I said wryly.

“How are you, kid?”

“You know, right, that I’m in my twenties and as such, I’m hardly a kid?”

“You’ll always be a kid to me, _kid._ ”

I rolled my eyes, not willing to let him see my amusement. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Um, yeah!” he sprawled himself over my desk. “You and I haven’t been communicating lately. How are you? How’s your therapy? How’s your knee? How’s your arm? How’s work? How’s everything?”

God, I’d missed talking to him. “I’m okay. My _therapies_ are good. Any chance of letting me slack off them for a bit?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’

“Yeah, figured as much. My knee’s better. My arm’s better. Work is smooth. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Caught between Pepper and the five dunderheads on the team. And the brother of one of the dunderheads – though, I gotta say, he’s been behaving himself surprisingly well.

“Oh?” I asked, a tad nervously.

“Yeah. Too well, even. You’ve been meeting with him, yeah?”

Shit shit shit shit shit. Did Tony know? “Yup.”

“How’s he been treating you?”

“Surprisingly well,” I quoted Tony, not trusting myself to say anything else.

“You know, I am surprised how… benign he’s been towards you. I mean, he definitely went to the extreme with the throat slashing incident, but since then, especially given that, he’s taken to you surprisingly well. I’ve not seen him gel with so well with any of his former PRs.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

“I’d almost say he _likes_ you, but then this is Loki we’re dealing with. I doubt he even likes it when a child smiles.”

“Am I that unlikable, Tony?” I joked, hoping to distract him from the topic of Loki, specifically, the topic of Loki breaking curfew to meet with me in my apartment each night.

“You’re not likable; you’re adorable, kid. And I still haven’t forgotten that I need to get you the proper credit for your help in saving the city.”

“Well, thank you, but you don’t –”

“Zip it. You’re getting credit, and that’s final. The Office of the Mayor will be holding a ceremony in the near future to award medals to those who had performed great service during the attack and you’re going to be one of the awardees.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. Finally, I said, “If you insist.”

“You’re welcome. Now, that’s not really what I wanted to talk about. The renovation of the Tower has finished and we’re now ready to operate once more like we used to. In short, we’re ready to open to the public. There’s a party that will be held this Saturday. Get the word out and organise the party.”

The deadline wasn’t too generous, but it wasn’t going to be too tedious to organise the party. Roisin had done it often enough and our vendors knew what to provide. As for getting attention in the media, well, that was never hard for the Avengers anyway. What was surprising was that he was trusting me to lead the effort. Again, it was nothing too difficult, but it was still not what the junior-most member of the team did. Nevertheless, I was as thrilled as I was nervous. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Of course. Are there any changes you’d like to make to the guest list?”

“I’ll have Katie send you the guest list and any other changes.”

“Will Loki be attending?”

He rolled his eyes. “Who knows? We’re moving back to the Tower, so it’s not as if he’ll be left all alone to his own devices back at the Mansion, but it’s not like I’m keen to see him at the party. If it were up to me, I’d lock him up in his room as before, but Cap said that we ought to give Loki a chance, especially since he helped in the HYDRA attack and has been sticking to curfew. Can you believe it? _Captain America_ defending Loki. And here I thought that SHIELD being HYDRA was the craziest thing ever.”

I didn’t know what I found more bamboozling: anyone believing that Loki was sticking by curfew or had not been able to break out of his apartment in the Tower, or that Captain America was indeed defending Loki.

“Well, let me know what you’d like,” I said.

He sighed. “Of course, the party is the least of our concerns. There hasn’t been much news, but you don’t have to be a genius – aka me – to know that there’s a shitstorm on its way from D.C. It’s not looking good for Loki, kid.”

I swallowed, trying to think of a way to hide my worry. “You’re concerned for him.”

He guffawed. “No, I’m not. But he _did_ pull his weight during the attack and as much as I don’t like him, I don’t want him to fall into the hands of the American government. Also, I don’t want to see what his arrest or capture will do to the team. We’re six very strong personalities and you’d be surprised at how little it takes to set one of us in Kill Bill sirens mode, even though we’re supposed to be these unflinching, immovable warriors of steel. It’s scary how little it would take to break us apart.” He sighed heavily, then stood up. “Well, sorry to go all ‘old man’ on you, kid. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“No, no, it’s completely fine, Tony. You’ve been through so much and even now are putting your employees before yourself. You deserve to be able to vent.

He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks, kid. You take care, too, okay?”

“Only if you will take care of yourself.”

“Don’t you dare blackmail me like this!” he said as he began walking out.

I laughed and waved at him. “Okay, Iron Dad!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around dramatically. Arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, he asked, “ _What_ did you say?”

“Well, if you insist on calling me ‘kid…’’

“God, Scandal! I’m not old enough to be your dad!”

“You’re in your forties, aren’t you?” I asked, not sure where I’d got this bravado from. He was still my boss, after all. Then again, most bosses didn’t cry from happiness at seeing you safe and alive.

“You’ll be regretting having said that when it’s time for your annual review.”

I sniggered. “See ya!”

He turned around and walked out, giving one final wave, and I went back to my work.

* * *

With growls and curses, I emptied my wardrobe and flung its contents on my bed.

“Throwing a tantrum, aren’t we?” a snide voice asked.

I whipped around to face the man who stood at the entrance to my bedroom. “Get out,” I said, surly.

He was leaning against the doorframe. “Is that any way to talk to a god?” Loki asked lazily.

“It is, if the god in question has popped out of nowhere without asking me if he could.”

He straightened and entered my room, looking at the heap of dresses on my bed with curiosity. “Being saucy today, aren’t we?” He picked up the black dress I’d originally being eyeing for tonight’s party. I wasn’t sure if him touching my clothes was rude or not. “It seems the stereotypes are true. Women do become implacable when it comes to deciding what clothes to wear for an occasion.”

“Says the guy who is always grumbling about there not being enough black, green or gold in his wardrobe,” I spat, eyeing the charcoal grey number he’d donned for tonight. Even in my temper, I couldn’t help but notice just how fantastic he looked. Taking his suit measurements hadn’t been pleasurable by any yardstick, but they had resulted in something truly spectacular.

“I like this one,” he held out the dress.

“Oh, _joy_ ,” I snarled.

He frowned, clearly getting annoyed by my tone. I tsked and walked over to him and snatched the dress away from him.

“I can’t wear anything,” I complained as I walked over to my dressing table. “I can’t wear any of those without needing to bend my knee _and_ my arm. It’s cumbersome to wear pants and anything else I own is too casual for an evening event.”

I watched his reflection in the mirror. He looked at me simply, then snapped his fingers. An all-too familiar golden glow and hum appeared and the black dress vanished from my hands and materialised around my body. The dress I’d worn during the day, altered to accommodate for my arm, appeared on my bed instead, neatly folded.

I opened and closed my mouth dumbly. “Oh, yeah, that.”

He raised his eyebrows as he slowly walked towards me.

“Thank you,” I added.

He lowered his eyebrows and nodded.

Still, I was determined to take out my frustration with myself on him. “And how am I going to get out of this dress, then?” I asked, realising a second too late the unfortunate innuendo.

He stopped in his tracks and grinned in a way that would’ve put the Cheshire cat to shame. “I could help you with it,” he purred.

My chin dropped to my chest and I fumbled around the table, trying to remember whether concealer went before the foundation or vice versa.

“You do look nice,” he said, now standing a just a foot behind me. “However, you are still rather bare.”

Before I could try to analyse what the hell he meant, he opened his hand. There was another golden glow and in his hand appeared a pendant of a green stone set in a teardrop and attached to a simple golden chain. It was simple, yet beautiful, perhaps all the more so because of its simplicity.

“Is it emerald?” I asked in wonder.

“No. The gem is not found in any of the Nine Realms. When translated to your tongue, its name roughly comes out to be ‘Moss Drops,’” Loki replied. “Would you like to wear it?

“I – I can’t keep it,” I said.

“I did not ask you if you would like to keep it. I asked you if you would like to wear it. I think it would go well with your dress, which, while elegant, is a little too simplistic for an evening event.”

Briefly, I entertained a fantasy about Loki being on Project Runway, where he air kissed eliminated contestants and told them ‘Auf Wiedersehen’ like Heidi Klum. I hadn’t seen much of his Asgardian wardrobe, but something told me he was rather fashion conscious.

“Yeah,” I licked my lips. “Please.”

He smiled. “Would you like me to put it on you?”

I didn’t have much of a choice with my broken arm, did I? “Y-yes please.”

His smile widened, making my stomach do flips and somersaults. This felt like something out of a goddamn fanfiction. He bent and lowered his head, placing the necklace around my neck. The stone rested heavily on my sternum. He was right; the pendant really did complement my dress without hogging all of the attention. He deftly tied it around my neck, then brushed his fingers over the chain on either side of the stone, admiring it. His fingers rested there, touching the necklace and my skin. He must have been able to feel my pulse.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his head even closer to mine.

“Yes, it is,” I whispered, unable to fully push cut through the fuzzy heat in my head and body. “Thank you.”

He smiled again, and this time, I felt the movement of the muscles in his cheek as he brought his face right next to mine, staring into my soul with eyes as green as the stone he’d gifted me. “I was not talking about the necklace.”

My breath hitched. If he hadn’t been able to feel my pulse earlier, he was definitely able to feel it now. “Thank you, I really like this dress too.”

That was not what I’d wanted to say, not that I knew what I really wanted to say. Still, it sounded especially stupid even by the low standards I’d set for myself. His fingers left my neck and squeezed my shoulders, whether in annoyance or reassurance or something else entirely, I wasn’t sure.

“I still have to get ready,” I said. It was true; I just wished I had found a better way to say it.

“Very well,” he muttered and walked away and out, leaving me overheated and yet somehow cold without his touch.

* * *

The party was in full swing, and to my delight, everything looked as good as in the previous parties. People were chatting and having a good time and enthusiastic reunions. The Avengers looked relaxed too. I guessed they preferred these parties over strip clubs any day. Well, maybe everyone except Clint. I was keeping an eye on Loki from afar. He was with Thor and looked like he was behaving himself – that is, sulking and keeping to himself. I didn’t make an effort to seek him out, partly because I was too confused about and frustrated with myself about what had happened earlier in the evening, and partly because I had to make rounds to make sure the party was going well.

“Well, hello there,” a woman called out. I turned to see Natasha approaching me, her quintessential Mona Lisa, or rather, Natasha Romanoff smile in place. “I see you survived Tony’s strip club shenanigans.”

“Barely,” I laughed and hugged her. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, hanging in there. Taking care of the boys. Don’t tell Tony, but I missed these parties. It’s good to get away from the testosterone train for a little bit.”

I laughed again. “I know what you mean. I have to talk about men so much that sometimes it feels like I’m going to fail the Bechdel test. It’s times like these when I’m happy that PR is a field dominated by women.”

“No surprise there. Men don’t know how to be subtle. How are you?”

“Not bad.”

“How’s your arm and leg?”

“Not too bad. Recovery is slower than I like, but hey, at least it’s happening.”

“Enjoying your newfound celebrity?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “It must have cost an arm and a leg.”

I pursed my lips, trying very hard to not show how entertained I was by her wordplay.

“Oh come on,” she cajoled, punching my good arm. “You know that was funny.”

“Nope."

“Yep!”

“Definitely not,” I said, even though I was losing the battle with myself to not let my smile show.

“Definitely yes.”

“Fine,” I conceded.

She laughed. “There you go, solnyshka. And don’t think I’ve forgotten I still need to train you to kick ass in a dress and heels.”

“Oh, you don’t really have to.”

“Why not? It’s a good skill to have even if you don’t have a literal god threatening to use you as his punching bag. And I’ve got a little more free time, now with SHIELD gone.”

She said it casually, but I knew it was something that had been bugging her. I touched her hand lightly. “I’m really sorry, Nat. And I’m also really sorry for Director Fury. I know he meant a lot to you.”

She smiled sagely. “Don’t worry about it. You get used to it, in our business. I like your necklace.”

“Oh, thanks!”

She squinted at it. “Emerald?”

“Yeah,” I said, hoping she didn’t dig any deeper.

“May I touch it?” she asked.

I smiled nervously. “Sure!”

She touched it and made me turn around so that she could study it as it caught the light. “I should take you gemstone shopping with me. You have good taste.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t buy it,” I said, like a fool.

“Boyfriend?”

“Friend,” I replied.

She looked at me curiously, clearly wondering what kind of ‘friend’ gifted emerald necklaces. Thankfully, she let it drop. “That one over there treating you alright?”

I turned around to see she was talking about Loki. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

“Don’t drop your guard around him. He might not have any intention of hurting you, but that doesn’t mean he’ll care if you do get affected.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied tersely.

“There’s something about him recently that’s not sitting well with me. It’s more than the usual paranoia of ‘he’s going to try to take over the planet again.’ There’s just… something I can’t put my finger on. No matter how tame he may be acting, I won’t ever be able to forget how he threatened me while I was interrogating him. Called me a ‘mewling quim’ or something like that.”

“A what?”

“Damned if I know. Just pegged it down to the usual Asgardian nonsense that both he and Thor often spew. But, listen,” she turned me towards her and held my arms. “If he ever does or says something that disturbs you even the slightest, I want you to come to me, no matter how trivial it is, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” she said firmly. “Us women have got to look out for each other even in the superhero industry. Yes?”

I nodded more sincerely this time. “I got it.”

She smiled. “Okay, on that totally cheerful note, I’m going to take your leave. I’m sure you’ve got work to do and drunken superheroes to keep an eye on. See you around, solnyshka.”

“Bye, Nat!” I smiled, trying to get back my good mood and storing away the ‘mewling quim’ part for future reference.

I wandered around for a bit, networking and catching up with old connections and friends, helping sort out the few problems that did arise. I heard a noise to my right and saw that a waiter had accidentally dropped her tray. No guest had noticed or made the effort to come over if they had. The waiter dropped to the floor, deftly scooping up the dropped napkins and food and the undamaged utensils. I walked over to her, awkwardly lowering myself as much as I could without bending my knee.

“Oh, it’s alright, ma’am,” she said. “I’ve got this covered.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” I said. Soon enough, another waiter came and placed a caution sign around us and began mopping away the mess.

To my surprise, I heard Thor speak up behind me. “Brother, I suggest you be a little less obvious about your, ah, admiration.”

I frowned in confusion and slowly stood up, with the waiter offering her hand, and turned around to see the two Asgardian brothers standing a few feet behind me. Loki was glaring at Thor and Thor was smiling sweetly at me. While that wasn’t unusual in itself, somehow, I felt like I’d unwittingly been the butt of a joke, even if it had been at Loki’s expense. What was even more astonishing was that there was a faint blush on Loki's cheeks.

“Hi, Thor. Hi, Loki,” I said casually. “How are you?”

“Very well, my lady,” Thor replied. “How are you?”

“Good, good. You know, you could’ve helped me a few seconds ago. What happened to your chivalry?” I joked.

“Oh, Loki was on his way to help,” Thor said seriously, yet I heard the amusement in his voice, “but he got distracted.”

“Quit your prattling, you baboon!” Loki said sharply, then turned to me. “I was merely deliberating between whether it would be a good idea to use my magic.”

It was a good reason, for sure. While the public knew Loki was living with the Avengers and a lot of the guests tonight had recognised him, he wasn’t exactly bragging about being the ex-destroyer and now-saviour of the same city. Yet, it sounded like this wasn’t the real reason in this case. “Sure,” I said drily.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned around to see a familiar figure looking at our tiny gathering hesitantly.

“Is this a good time to interrupt?” Daniel asked.

I walked over to him enthusiastically, then remembered the way we had last parted. I opened my arms hesitantly, asking for permission. He nodded shyly and came closer to me. I hugged him and he pulled me closer, affectionately rubbing my back.

“Hey, Scandy. Looking dandy,” he grinned.

“Hey, Dan. Looking…” I said, trying to find a good word, “Tan?” I finished lamely.

“Not your best.”

I shrugged. “Well, I never could match up to your standards anyway.”

He laughed. “How are you?”

“Good,” I said sincerely. “How are you? It’s been long time since we spoke.”

“Yes, it has,” he said simply.

Before I could say anything more, I heard Thor speak. “Loki?”

“Come on,” Loki muttered, and walked off before I could do anything. Thor shot me an apologetic look and I shot him a reassuring one.

“He’s still not terribly pleased with me, is he?” Daniel came up to my side.

“No. Well, he’s never pleased with anyone.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

I turned to face him. “Look, I am sorry about how I treated you the last time. It was immature. You were just doing your best to help and honestly, I can’t blame you. He’s fucking terrifying. Heck, the first time I met him, I ended up jumping on top of the kitchen counter and screaming for five minutes. Yours was a perfectly natural reaction. It’s just that I forgot that not everyone had been as exposed to him as I had. I’m really sorry.”

He shrugged lightly, but I could see that he appreciated it. “Thank you. I guess I could’ve been less of a pussy as well, but oh well.”

I shook my head. “No, no, you’re fine. It’s completely fine to have been scared and to have acted in your self-preservation. And honestly, you were right. About what you’d said."

He frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t really recall.”

“Well, you said some stuff about how Loki was hovering around me and taking care of me, and what my reaction to that was, and let’s just say, you gave me a lot of food for thought. So thank you for that.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t really remember, but I’m glad I could be of some help.”

“And thank you for coming to visit me and bringing me those colouring books.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t text you earlier. I wanted to, I really did. But I was just too embarrassed about how I’d acted and I didn’t know how best to put it.”

He clasped my shoulders. “Girl, if you say sorry or thank you one more time, I’m going to shake you by your broken arm.”

“Sorry,” I said, then realising what I’d just said, self-corrected, “I mean, got it.”

He laughed. “Well, how have you been?”

“Busy, but good. How about you?”

“Same. After the fiasco with JARVIS, Tony’s been sitting on our heads and working round the clock to come up with breakthroughs in quantum computing to improve JARVIS’ capabilities and security. He also just won’t shut up about getting me a medal for trying to reboot JARVIS even though I did fuck all.”

I laughed. “Oh god, I’m so glad I’m not the only one on whom he’s gone full ‘Iron Dad’ mode.”

He guffawed. “’Iron Dad?’ I’m stealing that one.”

“Be careful with that one. Apparently, my raise is on the hook.”

“Well, I might be able to get away with it if I can work out the equation for this quantum error correction we need. Then again, he might still not be pleased until we can somehow work around the no-cloning theorem.”

“Do you literally just put ‘quantum’ in front of every word?” I laughed.

“Pretty much. But you’ve gotta be a genius to be able to get away with it.”

“Okay, hot shot, I get it, you’re the next Tony Stark. How are your injuries?”

“I’m still in PT for my shoulder, but all the wounds have healed without scarring.”

“And have you been forced to go into counselling as well?”

“Yep,” he laughed. “It’s pretty chill, really, I and my therapist just swap cool psych facts.”

I was going to ask him for how I could get away with counselling with just having to swap cool facts with _my_ therapist, when a small group caught my eye. A little away from us stood Pepper, who was enthusiastically chatting with Thor. By Thor’s side, of course, stood Loki. And by Pepper’s side, stood our old friend Mary Langley. I was too far to be able to see what Mary and Loki were acting like, but not too far to hear the alarm bells ringing. Of course, I wasn’t going to admit they were ringing more out of ill-timed jealousy than PR-related worry at the idea of my client talking with an ex-flame.

“Have you met Pepper?” I asked Daniel. “Do you want to meet her? Let me introduce her to you!”

Without waiting for Daniel to confirm whether he had met her, I began marching towards the group. It was surprising how much ground I could cover when I was simmering despite my knee.

“Hi!” I exclaimed, almost too loudly.

The entire group turned to me. Thor and Loki had already met me, so they didn’t show much of a reaction. Before I could study Mary, Pepper came over to me and pulled me into a hug.

“Hello, sweetie! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” she gushed. “Tony’s been keeping me abreast about you and I wanted to come check on you myself, but it’s been such a hard time.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” I said, “You’ve been so busy and there’s been so much on your plate – not just our stuff but also Stark Industries! I’m surprised you even had enough time to come to the party tonight.”

“I don’t, really, but I realised I have to set aside some time to focus on my own sanity and peace of mind. You and the rest of the team have done a good job with the party! It’s comforting to be back in this familiar environment.”

I smiled broadly. “Happy to help, Pepper. How are the investors doing?”

“Oh, as tough as always, but we’re getting there. Anyway, would you like a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks. Oh, by the way, this is Daniel,” I said, gesturing to Daniel.

“Daniel!” she trilled and pulled him into an even cosier hug.

“Hey, Pepper!” He greeted. Of course he knew her. Of course he’d been introduced to her. Of course, as always, I was the idiot.

“My god, you look so thin. Are you letting Tony bulldoze you?”

“He’s a force of nature, that one.”

“Yes he is, but don’t let him work you to the bone like that!”

“Oh, he insists on me getting plenty of rest. It’s my waking hours that are a problem.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Still, don’t be afraid to put your foot down and let him know when something is unfeasible. He gets carried away far too often at the cost of his health and others’.”

“Will keep in mind,” he finger-saluted.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked and called over a waiter.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a rum and tonic.”

“What about you, Mary?”

The PA mulled over it for a second or two. Clearly, she was feeling every inch as awkward as I’d expected her to be. Before I could stop myself, I suggested, “Why not a Dark n’ Stormy?”

I didn’t need to have eyes behind my head to notice that Loki was now looking sharply at me. But it was Mary’s face that truly gave me satisfaction. It was foolish, I knew. She knew now just as well as I did that she’d almost slept with an alien criminal and I could see the cogs turning in her head, wondering if I’d been privy to her escapades and the knowledge of the said alien’s true identity.

Did she regret almost sleeping with him? Or now, having found out about his identity, did she regret _not_ sleeping with him? It would’ve been hell of a notch on her bed. Was she going to boast about whatever little ‘association’ she had had with him? Or was she going to decide that the world needed to know how she had almost been in mortal peril? Mary Langley, I figured, could prove to be a threat far messier and complicated to deal with than any gathering of senators in Washington D.C.

She had paled and her face was pinched, yet she gathered her composure admirably well. “No, I think that’s more suited to _Mr. Lucas’_ tastes.”

Daniel and Thor were undoubtedly confused. Pepper was looking at Loki, me and Mary in rapid succession, processing the drama unfolding.

“Thank you, darling,” Loki said smoothly, “But it is not my cup of tea – or shall I say – my glass of whiskey anymore.”

Her pallor was replaced by a hot flush. “Oh, that isn’t what you said when you… when you…” she stumbled, and I realised that she neither knew that I knew about her tryst, nor was she sure whether she should spill the beans and if yes, then how she would go about it.

“When what, darling? When I took the business card you had so graciously offered?” Loki said.

Instantly, my disgruntlement with Mary vanished and was replaced by my anger at Loki. Trust him to frame a situation in a way to make the other person look bad. I was jealous that Loki had found her attractive enough to call her over for a nightcap, but she wasn’t to blame here. She had been the one to be catfished, after all. Damage control was needed.

“Ms. Langley,” I began, but she interrupted me.

“Did you know?” she snapped. “Did you know who he was?” Before I could reply, she huffed. “Oh, what am I talking? Of course you knew!”

“Mary,” Pepper spoke soothingly, placing her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Please, not here.”

Mary glared at her, but Pepper faced her head on. No doubt she was surprised why Mary was so flustered, but she didn’t let it show. With a gentle, yet unyielding voice, she said, “Please, come with me. Let’s talk more about this in private.” And saying so, she steered the other woman away.

The four of us stared at them as they walked away.

“What was that about?” Thor asked at long last.

“I don’t know, man,” Daniel said. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he added, looking at me, not saying out loud that he knew my and Loki’s guess would be much, much better. “Well, I just saw a friend so I’m going to dash. Keep in touch and hit me up, okay?”

I nodded. He gave me one last quick hug and went on his way. Too angry to look at Loki, I walked away from the brothers and returned to watching over the party. After a while, when my stomach’s growling became too loud to ignore, I began making myself a plate of food. Then, of course, I remembered how I’d made a plate for Loki at the last party. I doubted he’d eaten anything tonight. I’d seen him leave the party and I was sure he was self-sustaining himself on sheer spite.

Stupid, bitter, nasty, mean, horrible, selfish prick, I muttered to myself as I started heaping extra food on my plate. Unlike last time, I could only carry one plate at a time. I wasn’t sure why I was doing this, but I justified that it was more satisfying to shout at him than to watch him starve himself. When I was ready, I walked out towards the elevator with the plate of food. I doubted he was in my apartment tonight, so I made way for his. I walked down the all too familiar corridor, still not having come to terms with the fact that now I could enter his apartment without any elaborate security procedures.

The last time I’d followed him out of a party back to his apartment, he was surrounded by a host of SHIELD agents and I’d wondered if finally, he was going to kill me. And Robson had still been up and about. Was that why he’d left the party in a hurry that night? Had he anticipated the shitstorm that was going to follow Nick Fury’s death? Had he, even then, begun hatching a plan to infiltrate HYDRA? I’d have to ask him when he was finally allowed to have visitors. I wondered what he’d do if he knew how close Loki and I had become, just as he he’d begun suspecting.

I couldn’t knock on the door, so I had to settle for awkwardly and slowly barging in. He was standing in front of the glass wall, his hands clasped behind his back, letting the light from the city be the only source of illumination.

“I brought you dinner.”

“Did you, now?” he asked caustically. “Did you bring Dan his dinner as well?”

I narrowed my eyes and put the plate on the glass table with more force than necessary. “Did you bring Mary her drink?”

His ramrod posture became even straighter – a clear sign he was annoyed. “That situation would not have arisen if you had done your job and steered me away, instead of dallying about with that boy.”

“No,” I intoned, walking around the sofa and coming up next to him, “that situation would not have arisen if you hadn’t been such a smartass.”

“Let me remind you,” he said through clenched teeth, “it was you who threw that jibe at her.”

“And let _me_ remind _you_ that it was _you_ who took her up on the offer to sleep with her!”

“I did not sleep with her!”

“You almost did!”

“Not that you would care any which way!” he barked.

I recoiled, rapidly blinking, my face contorting in amused incredulity that finally morphed into frustration and anger. Over five months of emotional, physical and mental stress, hurt and annoyance distilled into this one moment.

“You Asgardian ass!” I bellowed. “How dare you say I do not care? What else have I been doing, every goddamn second? Why else would I bring your salty ass a plate of food after you decided to starve yourself instead of deal with the mess you yourself had made? Why else would I text you day and night to just ask you how you are doing and what you are doing at the moment? Why else would I keep trying to tell you that you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone? Why would I try to work out every single night if you wanted to initiate a hug or if you wanted to let me do it or if you wanted to be left alone?

“Why did I encourage you and compliment you obsessively during each of your visits to the hospital patients? Why would I still keep you up to date on their progress even though you can’t physically visit them yourself anymore? Why did I share my colouring books with you that one night? Why did I feel so bad when you decided to not show up for four days during my time at the hospital for no goddamn reason? Why did I feed you ice cream and listen to you even after you gatecrashed my alone time in that week before the attack? Why did I send you coffees during those two weeks I didn’t see you even after you had almost slashed my throat? Why did I go try to talk to Tony to let you move about the Tower freely even though you were clearly playing me?

“Because I care, that’s why!” I finished dramatically. I made to walk away like the last time.

Except this time, he caught my arm. “I let you walk away from me once before when you hollered at me in this very chamber, but not this time,” he growled.

I jeered. “You didn’t _let_ me. I walked away because you were too busy picking up your jaw from the floor after I'd called you a -”

He growled my name in warning. “Cease talking and listen to me!”

“No! _You_ listen to _me_!” I said, making every effort to not actually swat him as I internally wanted to. “I may not be able to magically conjure nice suits for you, or carry your bulky self to the bathroom, or be able to defend you against an attack or know what to say to you to make you feel better, but don’t you dare tell me I don’t care! You think you are the only one capable of caring? I might not be a thousand years old god with an infinitely complex life, but I’m not some simplistic shallow idiot that you can figure me out by just knowing me for five months! You think I don’t care? Then tell me why I have been the one constantly asking you if we are friends while you are the one who has been dismissing me!”

“Fine!” He bellowed and it took every effort to not flinch. “We are friends! We are friends,” he added, softer this time. Suddenly, a pained expression overtook his features. “We are – we are… whatever you want us to be,” he finished.

All the anger left my body then, replaced only by weariness and confusion. What did I want us to be? What did he want us to be? Was it possible, whatever either of us wanted to be? And if it was, was it right what I wanted us to be and what I hoped against hope he wanted us to be?

“What do you want us to be?” I whispered, buying time more than anything else.

His hand came up as if to tuck my hair behind my ear, but stopped midway. “Is it not clear what I want?” he asked, with so much softness, so much gentleness that it made my heart clench.

I wanted to cry from how overwhelmed I was – overwhelmed from stress, from my confusion, from my doubts and insecurities, from my feelings for him, whatever they were, and from how beautiful he was, with half his profile shrouded in the dark and the other half illuminated by the soft glow of the city, and his entire face scrunched in hesitance and yearning – neither of which I’d ever seen on his face before.

And there was only one more way left for me to show I cared. I would never forget it, but I knew now that I had forgiven him some time ago, even if I hadn’t realised it then.

Mustering all my courage to look him straight in those hauntingly beautiful eyes, I said, “I forgive you, Loki.”

I let the statement hang, for there was no need to add anything else. I studied his face as it slowly dawned on him what I’d said. Wonder, shame, guilt, regret, relief, amazement flit across his face till all that was left was humbled gratitude. He could not stop a little gasp from escaping his lips.

Finally, he said, “I do not deserve it.”

“I don't know. But I forgive you because I care for you, do you understand?”

He nodded.

More tentatively, I asked, “Do you forgive me?”

He looked at me in bafflement and disbelief. A strangled chuckle escaped him and my heart almost fell, but he quickly grabbed my hands and squeezed them hard. “Of course I forgive you, you impossible woman!”

And then a few tears did escape me and I added in a high, trembling voice, “See? We both care for each other.”

He stepped closer to me, still holding my hands. He whispered my name, then, in a deep, low voice, he said, “Let me touch you.”

It wasn’t a command; it was a plea.

Heart beating faster than it probably ever had, I said, “Only if I can touch you.”

He nodded and gently let go of my hands and came even closer to me. My knees felt like they were going to give way anytime soon, but I still found the strength to walk closer to him. Closer and closer we came, ever so slowly, until the only way we could comfortably stand in front of another was if I removed my arms away from my body so that he could put his in the space left. I had to crane my neck up to meet his gaze. When his fingers brushed against my waist, I flinched, but pressed myself closer to him before he could withdraw.

It must have been minutes, yet it felt like hours, before one of his arms was fully wrapped around my waist and the other hand cradled my face, while both of mine rested where his shoulders met his neck. The only way to go from here was closer. He lowered his neck so that I didn’t have to reach up too high given the state of my knee. I arched my back to accommodate him. My senses had stopped working, yet seemed to be in an overdrive. All I could think about was how frantically my heart was thudding, how hot my skin felt and how sensual his mouth was.

He came closer and closer till the part of me that wanted me to close my eyes and just give in to the sensation battled with the part that wanted to watch everything as it happened, in amazement at seeing something so wondrous and for fear that it would never happen again.

He paused, his breath coming faster than usual. He licked his lips and when he spoke, his voice was raspy. “How could I never have realised how beautiful you are?”

My eyes decisively fell shut. “Loki,” I whispered, feeling a thrill shoot down my spine at being able to say his name so adoringly.

And then his lips brushed against mine.

I liked kissing. It had always felt very good, even if there was little to no technique involved. But I had never felt that electric spark, that thrill of excitement and fulfilment course through me when my partner’s lips and mine had connected, as the books and movies had said I would. Yes, those kisses had been exciting, but they had never led me to feel as if I was crackling with energy, that I was so lightheaded that I could faint. And I thought that perhaps, that feeling was an exaggeration.

Today, I learned it was an understatement.

When Loki’s lips had merely brushed against mine, and then gone on to claim mine, I understood why those kisses, as good as they had been in their own right, had never made me feel as if I were a storm. It was not about technique, or placement of hands, or teasing or sighs. This kiss was about yearning for the impossible to be possible. It was passion and desperation. It was frustration having given way to acceptance, anger having given way to affection. It didn’t taste of peppermints – it tasted like power and triumph. It was sweet, sweet success.

I surged into him, and he pulled me flush against his body. I gasped as I melted in the cocoon of his embrace, melting yet pushing as much as I could so that he could pull me closer and let me melt even more. He licked my lips and then slipped his tongue into my mouth, coaxing sighs and moans from me and rewarding me with those of his own. His hands tangled themselves in my hair, and mine in his. I tugged his hair and he broke the kiss to release his groan. I pressed firm kisses on and around his mouth and he let me, before he reclaimed my mouth with renewed vigour.

Neither of us focused on perfection. Instead, we drowned ourselves in the wet smack of our lips, the feeling of the other’s fingers in our hair, clutching our shoulders, over our skin, the sighs and groans and moans as we drank in the taste of each other, the grunts of frustration as we broke apart to suck in air, furious that we had to spend even seconds apart, the feeling of finally, finally being able to touch each other and revel in each other without pride or doubts or resentment or fears in the way. It was just our truest selves, in each other's arms, surrounded by only the light and the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The burn is quenched at last. Thank you so much to everyone for being on this journey with me. It has been wonderful to have you all and I'm so glad I could finally complete this. Thank you sticking with me till the end. Yes, even to those of you who refused to talk to me because they thought a kiss wasn't coming before Ch. 35. You know who you are <3
> 
> 2\. In case you're not sure what happened in that party scene when Thor was like "hurhur Loki got distracted"... well, the God of Mischief was checking out Scandal's butt. There was a not-so-subtle hint in the line where she wondered if she had been the 'butt' of the joke.
> 
> 3\. This chapter is extra long, both because of Endgame (those of you who've watched it will know what I'm talking about) and because I got carried away.
> 
> 4\. I was too excited to edit this, so hope it's a semi-coherent mess of words. Please let me know if you find any error. Also, please leave constructive feedback if you are so inclined.
> 
> 5\. Meanwhile, for those of you who've watched Endgame, do check out my AU sequel to this story - [Saudade: A Love Millions Would Dream of. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678682/chapters/44296882) Love you!


	33. That Time We Simplified Jargon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Thor and Loki end up examining a lot of the lingo you've been using. Read this chapter on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins 10 days and ends 14 days after the previous chapter. I gotta say, you guys are just... crazy. I made a prank in the end notes of the previous chapter, saying that the story has ended. Most of you didn't even notice that. Of the few of you who did, most of you just focused on saying 'thank you.' Only one person really came after me screaming bloody murder - the way I'd intended for the prank to pan out. I thought I was going to be like "LOKI'd, huehuehue, I am the bad guy!" but nooooooo, it totally backfired on me. Damn you :P

“Thor, what’s a ‘mewling quim?’”

Thor spat out his Pop-Tarts, spouting milk and cereal all over the counter. I looked in alarm as he dissolved into a coughing fit, his face as red as his signature cape. I jumped from my barstool and ran around the counter and feebly thumped his back. Were gods able to choke to death? Would I have to perform a Heimlich manoeuvre on Thor? Just when I thought that I might have to, he settled down. I went to the sink and fetched some wipes to clean the counter.

“I apologise for the mess, my lady. Let me aid you,” Thor said and reached for the wipes.

“No worries. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You should drink some water.”

“Of course.”

He drank two glasses of water while I cleaned off the counter. I threw away the wipes, then returned to my seat, looking at Thor expectantly. He stared back at me benignly. 

“Well?” I asked.

“Yes, my lady?”

“What does it mean?”

“What?” he asked bewildered, then laughed nervously, “Oh, _that_!” 

“Yes, ‘that,’” I said, wondering if his coughing fit had lasted this long for a reason other than Pop Tarts.

“Um, ah, yes,” he said, stroking his beard, not making eye contact with me. “Where… where did you hear that?”

Just what was this term that it flustered Thor so?

“From a TV show. Called Vikings,” I lied. “It’s about you Norse people.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I replied, my already thin patience thinning further.

“Is that really where you heard the term?" 

“Damn it, Thor, just tell me what it means!” I snapped.

He held out his hands in a placating way. “Yes, yes, of course. It, er, it means,” he said, then catching my look of irritation, finally got to the point, “Yes, it means someone who is often whining.”

My eyes turned to slits, sensing there was a still a lot he wasn’t saying. I analysed what he’d said, trying to break down the phrase. “Well, that’s the ‘mewling’ part, I guess. What’s a ‘quim?’”

To my astonishment, Thor’s face turned red again, yet this time, it was purely from embarrassment. Despite my genuine curiosity, I couldn’t help but want to milk this purely for my entertainment.

“That is it. That is the complete phrase.”

“Is ‘quim’ an animal?”

“No. It is just a term.”

“A term for what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar!” 

“Why don’t you Google it?' 

“Because I don’t trust the internet with Norse phrases, especially when I have a literal Norse god sitting in front of me!” 

“But you must trust the creators of this show enough to believe that this phrase makes any sense.”

“Damn it, Thor, just tell me!”

“Tell you what?” a familiar voice asked me.

Never had my heart beat as fast upon hearing Loki’s voice. It had been ten days since that night. When we had kissed. I was unable to even say it in my head without flushing from giddiness. It felt too surreal to be true. It might actually have been, for Loki acted as if nothing had happened.

After we had finally somehow disentangled from each other and just basked in each other’s presence, I had finally remembered I had a party to supervise.

“I have to go back to the party,” I’d whispered, my voice a tad hoarse.

“Must you?” he had asked, his own voice deeper than usual.

“I have to,” I said softly. Did he want me to… stay over? Or just not leave till a little longer?

“Alright, then,” he said, but made no effort to let go, his hand continuing to stroke my hair and my back.

We stood like that for yet longer, until eventually I regained my senses.

“I really do have to go.”

He sighed and finally stepped away from me. He continued to hold me and studied my face. I stared back for as long as I could until my gaze succumbed to the intensity of his.

“Good night then, my darling.”

“Good night, Loki,” I said shyly.

But he stopped me before I could move. “Would you like me to take off your dress?”

“W-what?” I said, feeling the heat from a few minutes prior flood back to my face.

“You said you needed help taking off your dress,” he said, with that trademark smirk of his, full of chaotic mischief.

“Yes, but I need to go back to the party right now,” I insisted.

He came closer to me once more. “That’s what illusions are for.” He winked and snapped his fingers.

A green and gold glow surrounded me. I looked down at my body. I was still wearing the dress, yet it felt much different. The material felt softer, less stiff. It felt like my pyjamas.

“Now, everyone will think you are wearing your dress, when in fact you are wearing your night garments. The illusion will dissolve once you step into your apartment.”

Fairy Godmother had nothing on Loki, it seemed.

I smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Loki.”

He smiled softly. “You are most welcome.”

I wasn’t sure if should kiss him on the cheek, or the lips, or give him a hug. I settled for what came most naturally to me: squeezing his arms, saying good night and departing.

Maybe I should’ve said more. Maybe I should’ve hugged him, or kissed him and asked him if – when – I was going to see him again. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on returning to the party and just spent a few more minutes with him, admiring the skyline, for he didn’t come to my apartment the next day, or the day after. I thought it was because he was occupied, now that he had more freedom to roam about the Tower and engage with the Avengers. But when he didn’t come the third night either and left my short and simple texts on read that I realised he was ignoring me.

It was weird being ghosted by a god, especially when the said god would get cranky when you didn’t give him your full attention, which is why it hurt even more now that he was ignoring me. Had I misread the cues? Maybe he had not really been ready to be touched and kissed. Or maybe, my traitorous brain thought, he didn’t enjoy kissing me. Was he imagining someone else? Was he imagining Mary? But then why had he called me beautiful – that too the second time that night, and the third time overall?

Or was it that he regretted forgiving me? Or was he humiliated by the fact that he had had to apologise and that now I was finally forgiving him? But then why had he treated me so tenderly? Or maybe everything had gone right, but in the morning, he had had second thoughts. He had realised that I wasn’t worth his time. Or maybe all he had wanted was to be forgiven for his ego to be assuaged and now that he had got it, he didn’t need to bother with me anymore.

But then why kiss me? Or was he hoping for more than a kiss after spending all these months, if not more, not letting anyone touch him? Was he disappointed I hadn’t slept with him? Was he angry? I didn’t know. But every time I came up to his apartment, or the living room, on the pretext of work and couldn’t find him, my questions and doubts returned tenfold and new ones arose. Was it because he was a god and I was just a human? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why was I never good enough?

After all that we had shared and been through, after he had admitted to caring for me multiple times, and I for him, how was I still not good enough? Had I been too clingy? Had I been too affectionate? Or too fast? But even if I had been all this, I deserved I an answer. It was the least he could do, could he not, give me some closure? My self-loathing, my anger at him and my hunger for closure left me sleeping ill at night and being distracted and gloomy throughout work. I tossed between staring into the ether, smiling to myself as I relived the kiss and between wanting to clutch a pillow and curl into myself.

The one good thing that happened was that I met with Daniel for lunch the previous day, and I milked him for his experience being a man. I didn’t want to straight up assume human and Asgardian men were same, but they did have a lot of the bad traits in common, so Dan was going to be my man on the inside.

“You look stressed. Everything okay?” he had asked me.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I had said, playing with my food. “It’s just that I’ve been worried about my friend.”

“Oh?" 

“Yeah, she’s been going through some relationship problems. Well, relationship isn’t accurate, but you know what I mean.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “This might sound dumb, but has she tried talking to the guy?”

I shrugged. “She’s tried, but he’s ghosting her.”

“Oh dear.” 

“I know right! Why do they do that?” I asked, a little too animatedly, but he didn’t suspect anything. “Daniel, you’re a guy. Why do guys ghost?”

He let out a puzzled snicker. “Well, it’s not just guys, you know. I get ghosted by girls all the time. Maybe he’s just busy?”

“And that’s why he has been leaving her on read for the past ten days?” I asked scornfully.

He shrugged and raised his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m not defending him. I’m just giving some other reasons.”

 “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean you can’t even text a ‘ttyl!’”

“True. True.”

“It’s just that I’m so worried for her. She’s so sweet and kind and soft and the one time she really gets it bad for a guy, this happens.”

“You must be really close to her to be so concerned.”

“Yeah, she’s my best friend. I’ve known her since childhood.”

“Hmmm. Has she tried meeting the guy face to face? Like, track him down and speak with him. Nothing stalkerish, just, you know.”

I looked at him helplessly. How do you track down, leave alone stalk, a god who is either deliberately not hanging around his apartment when he expects you to come a-knocking, or is using illusions to make himself invisible? My helplessness must’ve been stark on my face, for he held my hand lightly.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be fine. Go talk to him – I mean, tell her to go talk to him. Though, to be honest, I suggest she just gets rid of the guy and moves on. He’s not worth the pain he’s causing her and her best friend.”

“But they’ve been getting to know each other for the past five months. And then finally, when they felt something for each other, they kissed,” I added morosely.

Daniel studied me with those cornflower blue eyes. If he had seen through my ploy, then he didn’t show it. “And if he doesn’t have the decency to fess up and say that he’s changed his mind or whatever, especially after he’s spent all this time getting to know her, then he’s a douchelord. Ditch him." 

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. What an asshat.”

Yet, I had not been able to dismiss Loki as easily from my mind. I did decide to take Daniel’s advice to track him down, but I decided to ignore the ‘don’t do anything stalkerish’ part. I had finally been able to catch Thor and after telling him that I needed his help to track down Loki because he had had been ignoring me so as to ‘not have to discuss his social media calendar,’ Thor had agreed to be bait to draw Loki out. He had told me Loki was going to join him this afternoon for a training session, so I could intercept him when he came to find Thor. 

It was remarkable how resourceful you could get when you were desperate.

And so here I sat, watching Thor struggle to define ‘mewling quim’ when the man of the hour himself stepped up.

I had thought I had been anticipating his arrival, but now that he was finally here, I realised I was dreading it. I took in his face hungrily. It felt like ages since I had last seen him. Memories of that night, of being held by him, of his fingers massaging me, of his mouth crashing against mine, flooded my mind. Beneath that usual mask of indifference, was he also recalling those minutes? Or was he already planning his escape? But then he wouldn’t have come up and asked me what I was talking about right now, had he? Or maybe he was just doing it because it would’ve looked odd if he’d outright ignored me?

“Brother,” Thor spoke up for me, but Loki didn’t take his eyes off me. That was a good sign, yes? “She is… she is curious… she wants to know – she –”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” I muttered, then looked archly at Loki, “What does ‘mewling quim’ mean?”

Loki’s eyes widened in shock. He controlled his features far better than Thor, but his reaction was still telling.

“Brother?” Thor asked wearily.

“Where did you hear this?” Loki asked me.

“Does it matter?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said bluntly.

I narrowed my eyes. “You know where or from whom I must have heard it from.”

Loki clenched his jaw.

“Brother?” Thor asked again. 

Earlier, I had only been driven by curiosity and the strange need to talk about Loki without referencing him out loud. But now, I was driven by everything I’d been repressing this past week and a half: frustration, confusion and above all, rage.

“What does it mean, Loki?”

“It means a whining woman or a nagging woman,” Loki said.

“That is not what it means!” Thor protested.

“I know you called Natasha that, so quit fooling around!” I raged.

“You called Natasha a mewling quim?” Thor thundered.

Loki held out his hands towards us. “Now, I assure you, it is not as bad as –”

“You called Natasha a mewling quim!” Thor repeated.

“I heard you the first time, you buffoon!” Loki exclaimed. “And yes, I called her that! I am not proud of it, but I was not in the right state of mind, as you might remember!”

“What does mewling quim mean?” I asked loudly.

“Tell her what it means,” Thor growled. “Let her hear it from you what you called Natasha, for if you do not, I will hang you upside down from the ceiling till you spit it out!”

“What Thor said!" 

Loki looked at me and winced. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Quim refers to a lady’s parts.”

“What?” I asked, thoroughly confused. 

Thor’s ears had turned red and there was a flush all over Loki’s pale face. “Parts. A lady’s… parts.”

I stared at him like he had lost his mind – or maybe I had, at last. I kept repeating ‘lady’s parts’ in my head, trying to work out what it meant. What parts of a lady? And as soon as I thought that, I understood.

“You,” I said, chest heaving, thinking that surely I had got this wrong, for there was no way I’d got this right, “You… called her… Natasha Romanoff… you called Natasha Romanoff… a whiny,” I drew in a shuddering breath, my own face feeling like an overheated tomato, “a whiny cunt?”

The brothers visibly flinched and I knew I’d got it right.

“Please,” Loki said and uttered my name consolingly, “I can explain everything.”

“Explain?” I shouted. “Explain how you called Natasha a whiny cunt?”

The brothers winced again.

“I know, I know,” Loki said, “it wasn’t my best moment and it was not a good thing to do, but I was in prison and I was in stress and she was interrogating me and all I wanted to do was conquer the planet.”

“So you called her a _whiny cunt_?” I asked again, panting hard.

“I-I-I was just – I was just saying what I thought would be most hurtful to everyone! Ask Thor!” he swivelled to Thor. “I said some horrible things about you, did I not?”

“You always say horrible things to me, Loki.”

“But I said especially horrible things to you then, yes?” Without waiting for an answer he turned back to me. “I called Bruce a filthy green beast, I threatened Barton’s family, and because I thought everyone always used her sex to undermine and underestimate her, I called Romanoff a mewling quim.”

“You called her a whiny cunt!”

He drew in a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I did.” 

“And?” I asked sharply. “Did you say sorry to her later?” 

“No. I did not.”

I made a noise that was part growl, part roar and part frustrated woman wanting to commit murder. I picked up my dossier and started marching towards the elevator, but Loki tugged me by my hand. 

“Please, darling, listen to me!”

“Let me go!” I snarled.

“Not until you speak with me.”

“ _I_ speak with _you_?” I cried. “When you have been the one ignoring me all these days? You have some nerve!”

“Let her go, Loki,” Thor commanded. 

“I will do what I want, Thor!” Loki retorted.

“Then go fuck a horse, horse fucker!” I retorted.

Pin drop silence.

Loki glared at me and I glared back at him.

“Did she – did she just…?” Thor asked.

More silence.

Then Thor giggled. Which turned into a chuckle. Which turned into a guffaw. His booming laugh echoed all throughout the living room that was otherwise silent. He laughed so hard that tears started pouring out of his eyes and he started clutching his stomach from pain. Loki turned to glare at him and I took that opportunity to make my retreat.

“Loki, she – she called you –” Thor wheezed, unable to complete the sentence and dissolving into another bout of guffawing.

“Shut up!” Loki barked.

“The look on your face!” Thor exclaimed.

“I said, _shut up, Thor_!” Loki yelled.

There was a clunk. Presumably, Loki had thrown something at Thor, but Thor kept on laughing, paying him no heed. His guffaws followed me even after the elevator doors closed and kept cheering me up throughout the week.

* * *

Someone was knocking at my door at six in the morning on Saturday.

I got the feeling of déjà vu as I stayed in my bed, curling into myself under my blankets, wondering if I pretended I’d heard nothing the knocking would go away.

It didn’t.

The intercom blared to life and a woman’s voice crackled through into my room.

“Wakey wakey, solnyshka!”

I glared in the general direction of the living room and got up with a huff. I dragged my feet, but I finally made it to the door. I swung it open to see a scarily alert and beautiful looking Natasha Romanoff grinning at me.

“All sleep and no work makes Jill a dull girl,” she said.

Half-glaring, half-falling asleep while standing, I croaked, “What?”

“It’s time to work out!” she exclaimed and without waiting for an invitation, entered my humble abode.

“Hmmm,” she mused as she took in my apartment, “not bad. But you haven’t really decorated it much.”

I stared at her, glassy-eyed.

“Get dressed,” she ordered. “We’re going exercising!”

“No.”

She turned around faster than I could’ve said ‘SHIELD.’ “What do you mean ‘no?’ I’m here to finally make good on my promise of training you.”

A tired sigh left my lips as I finally realised why I felt this was déjà vu: it was a replay of the first time Clint had dragged me to work out.

“I can’t even move my limbs. Besides, I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

“You still have two other limbs you can move. And you won’t be tired once you start exercising. And you slept enough at the hospital. Now get a move on, because I’m not half as patient as Clint.”

I threw her a reproachful look and walked into my room to change.

When I came out, she grinned. “You ready to kick ass?”

I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching into a smile. “Sure, why not?”

We walked to the gym in silence. It had been a long while since I’d made the walk. The last time I’d visited the gym for my training was the weekend before the suit-fitting and the fateful party – around three months ago. I hoped my first training with Nat didn’t end the same way as my first training with Clint had ended – with Loki tipping water over me and drenching my top. At the thought of Loki, I clenched my fists. Now that the worst of my drowsiness had vanished, I felt eager at the thought of training to punch him.

For all his declamations of how much he’d wanted to speak with me, he had failed to materialise in my apartment that night and the following nights. I hadn’t thought it possible, but that had made me even madder at him. I supposed he too was mad at me for calling him ‘horse fucker’ in front of Thor, but he’d asked for it. I was even gladder to be training with Nat now. She intimidated me more than Clint had, but I was keen to bond over woman power.

We brisk-walked along the track for a while, since that was all I could do to warm up. Then, she made me do a bunch of leg raisers, one set with both legs together and one set with just my left leg. There were lots of stretches while I was sitting down, flutter kicks, sit-ups and other core exercises. She didn’t worry about if I had the correct form, as long as I wasn’t doing something unsafe. Rather, she focused on just letting me get back into the groove again. Like Clint, she was very patient and understood when I needed rest even if I didn’t say anything.

She even did the exercises along with me to keep me company.

“So, you’ve been here for five months. What are your future plans?” she asked.

“What? Are you that keen to see me leave?” I joked as I ignored the weird feeling of drops of sweat rolling down my scalp and hairline.

“Of course,” she chuckled. “I’m just curious. Most of the younger employees here, with the exception of those who are – were – SHIELD recruits often moved on to new pastures in a year or so.”

I shrugged, as much as you could shrug when doing sit ups. “I like it here so far.”

“It is a good place to work at, for sure – minus the occasional attack. Still, a lot of people leave here a little disenchanted.”

“Why’s that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they realise that we’re not magicians that we can wave our wands and solve the world’s problems in one go. It is a messy business. Our successes are huge, but our failures are many. Success is never absolute. We have to make compromises, take gambles, make sacrifices. And some people can’t get around that. They get disillusioned by not just the work, but by _us_.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, I thought over the words in my mind. After the Battle of New York, there had been as many people who had criticised Tony as there had been those who had praised him for bringing the entire renovation project under Stark Industries. There were people who thought the renovation hadn’t been thorough enough and that the poorer neighbourhoods still had a long way to go. After the latest crises, those voices were back, along with new voices decrying the involvement of Clint and Nat on the team. The files on the internet, that Nat had herself leaked, spoke of SHIELD’s and hers and Clint’s sordid deeds. It had been an uncomfortable reading, but one which I’d had to do because that was my job.

I’d been too busy thinking of Tony and Loki and my own stint at the hospital at first. Then, I’d been too busy approaching everything with the sole goal of doing my job. There had been a lot of work to catch up to, after all. But now that the worst of the crisis was over and only the ripples remained, and now that Nat had pointed out the obvious facts to me, which I’d wittingly or unwittingly ignored, I did wonder: what did I want to do in the future? Where did I want to go? Whom did I want to be?

“Oh come, now, solnyshka!” Nat broke through my musing. “If I’d known you’d take it so seriously, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.” I smiled. “I just tend to overthink.”

“It’s food for thought, not thought for food.”

I laughed. “That is an excellent way to look at it.”

“Speaking of food, what do you like to eat?”

And just like that we were back to chatting. She loved asking me the most mundane details about myself and I asked her the same questions in turn. I figured she liked chatting about stuff like this. Probably, she didn’t get to hold such simple conversations with most of the people around her. It was weird, but not unpleasantly so, to be the dreaded Black Widow’s gym trainee and conversation partner about card games and paintball mishaps.

Soon enough, she helped me stand up and began running me through the basics of self-defence. Clint had taught me much of it, but it was good to get a refresher. She was manoeuvring the punching pad to the vulnerable areas she’d mentioned and commenting on my punches, when what I’d dreaded happened.

Loki walked in, followed by Thor.

‘Swaggered’ would be more appropriate, for he was practically dripping with smugness and self-contentment. One look at his smirking face and my entire good mood vanished.

“Well, well, well,” Loki said once he had come to a stop in front of us. “What do we have here? The famous Black Widow training her… spiderling?”

I rolled my eyes.

Nat, too, wasn’t exactly thrilled. “You’re just here because I’d asked to not be disturbed at the mats, aren’t you?”

“Quite right.”

I looked over his shoulder at Thor, who shrugged sheepishly. “I tried telling him, but he never listens.”

“I would not have missed the chance to see one of the greatest female warriors of this planet train her protégée for anything,” Loki replied the smoothly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, remembering all too well our little discussion just this past Tuesday. “’Greatest female warrior,’ huh? Well, maybe then you should treat her with more respect. Unless you don’t have any,” I said acidly.

The bastard wasn’t the slightest bit phased. If anything, he had clearly been anticipating my anger with relish. Eyes glinting with glee, he addressed me, “Not at all. I have a lot of respect for the shieldmaidens, like our beloved Lady Sif, and my own mother, who fights as well with knives as she does with seidr. In fact, I have a lot of respect for women, warriors or not.”

“You have an odd way of showing it,” I spat.

His smirk only widened. “Allow me to make amends, then.”

“Whatever it is, make it quick,” Nat interjected, “because it is too early for your antics.”

“Proper instruction can never be made quick. It must be done carefully.”

“Get to the point or I’ll _quickly_ lock you in a chokehold.”

“Not even on your best day, Agent.” Loki said smugly and looked back at me. “And that is why I should be the one teaching you how to fight me.”

I blinked in surprise, thrown off. He wanted to train me? Why? But my astonishment quickly dissolved when I remembered I was still angry with him.

“I don’t need you,” I said. “Nat and I are doing just fine. You can leave.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Oh, but I do not,” I mimicked him.

He arched an eyebrow, looking halfway between crossed and tickled. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I am only offering to help you be better.”

“I’m fine as I am, why don’t you try being better?”

Thor awkwardly cleared his throat. “With all due respect, I do think it is a good offer. After all, if you are aiming to defend yourself from someone, then who better to learn from than them? But, if either of you do not want this, we can –”

“No, no,” Nat interrupted. She had this intrigued look on her face and to my surprise, she said, “it is a good idea.”

I looked at her in disbelief. She turned to me and said, “You know we won’t let him hurt you. And if he tries to give you wrong advice, I’ll call him out on it." 

I looked at her, pleading wordlessly, but she tilted her head to where Loki was standing. “Well, go on then.” 

I wasn’t afraid of Loki hurting me. I knew he wouldn’t. But I didn’t want to be anywhere close to him after the past two weeks. I approached him, taking in how his black top accentuated his torso. The black may have been too stark for his complexion, but it brought more attention to how surprisingly well defined and toned his pale arms were. Idly, I wondered how it would be like to feel them. I’d already felt their strength, but I wondered how it would be like to feel the muscles beneath the skin. I vaguely registered my line of thought was teetering on inappropriate, so I forcefully reminded myself that I was angry with him.

“It is good to stand at an angle and raise your hands to protect your face and upper body, but chances are, you will not get the time to position yourself into this stance,” he began. “Also, I find it that when I want to stab people, it is easiest to go for the gut or the pelvis, especially since my knives are strong enough to cut through bone.”

He held out his hand. A green glow appeared over his palm, leaving behind two knives.

“Since you cannot move around much, I will not make you jump back and switch stances. So keep this current defensive posture up and keep looking at me. Lower your arm to block my movement when you detect it.”

I turned my attention down to his hands and admired the flicks and turns of his wrist as he idly played with the knives. I could make out the firm, yet gentle grip on his knives. He held them in his grasp in an almost relaxed fashion, as if the knives were not separate entities, but an extension of his hands. As I saw them curl and flex around the knives, I realised that his fingers were very long and slender. This was even more of a dangerous line of thought to pursue, so I looked up to his face instead.

I don’t know what he saw on my face, for he asked, “Do you trust me?”

I swallowed. It had been a long time since I’d seen his knives, and the last time I had, it hadn’t ended well for me. Then again, I had forgiven him. Then again, I was now angry at him again, albeit for other reasons. He sighed and held them out to me. I looked at him curiously.

“Go on. Take them. Examine them, if you like,” he said.

I picked up one. It was small and triangular, meant for close-combat. It tapered down to the end in a dangerously sharp point. It was meant to be fastened between the index and middle fingers. Thought it was slight, I could tell it would easily cut through my flesh and bone. I wished I could flip and flick it like him. Once I was done examining, I put it back in his hand.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, not meeting his eye. He was slow and steady and wasn’t out to trick me. He made variations, but he was mindful of my condition and did nothing too crazy. After a certain move kept flummoxing me, however, he stopped.

“You need to adjust your stance. Let me show you.” The green glow reappeared, this time taking the knives away and he stepped up behind me.

I went rigid, but he paid me no heed. He gently, but firmly, touched my arms and moved them till he had adjusted them to his liking. Then, he put his hands on my waist and turned my torso slightly to the front. And just like that, the anger and doubt drained out of me and left behind the angst that I’d managed to bury, but not get over. What had I done wrong? Why did I not deserve to have been held by him, touched by him like this after that night, and the next, and every night after that? He stood at a respectable distance, but I still managed to lean into him a little. He withdrew his hands from my sides. One travelled to my back, and the other to my belly.

“Straighten your back and tighten your core,” he said.

The combination of his voice so close to me and the weight of his palm over my belly stirred me again. I couldn’t help but admire his hands again. He had nice hands. Strong, yet delicate like a pianist’s. Strong enough to clutch me by my shoulders and pull my face to his with a fistful of my hair, yet delicate enough to cheeks, comb through my hair and stroke my back to bring me contentment.

“Do you see?” he asked.

I hadn’t even noticed that he had begun moving my limbs in a defensive move. I nodded absently. Maybe he saw how distracted I was, or maybe he decided that this was enough for today, for he said, “Perhaps we should move on to the offensive.” 

He resumed his earlier position. He clasped my hand and then brought it up to his chest. I began feeling hot from something other than the exercise. Was his thumb stroking my wrist, or was I imagining it?

“This is where my solar plexus is, not _here_ ,” he moved my hand slightly above, “where it is for you. _This_ is where my heart is,” he moved it to the left and above and I could feel the faint pulse through the thin layer of fabric in his rock solid chest, “not _here_ ,” he moved his hand to slightly left of centre. “And _this_ is where my spleen is,” he directed his hand to the other side, “not _here_. Now touch me in all the locations I showed you my organs are.”

I bit my lip and touched him as he said, choosing not to meet his eyes. He kept fussing with my hand, often moving it only by an inch or so, till he was satisfied I’d learned his anatomy well enough.

“Now punch me,” he said.

“What?” I finally looked up in bewilderment.

“Punch me.”

“What? No!”

“You will not hurt me.”

“Then why should I even bother?”

“Because if you want to be better, then you need to practice, little Valkyrie. Now, punch me.”

I frowned. I made a fist as Nat and Clint had taught me, drew back my hand and brought it forward into a punch over his heart.

“Pathetic,” he said.

I did it again and again, till he snapped, “Stop fooling around! Use your hips to gain momentum and _punch_ me.”

My frown deepened. This time, I held myself back a little less and allowed more power into the punch. When it landed, he nodded.

“Again.”

It wasn’t an insult, nor was it a snap, so I supposed I must have done it right. I landed another punch, and another, and so on. He kept punctuating it with nods and vocalisations of ‘again.’ As his approval became more frequent and my aim became better, and I got more used to the idea of punching someone without any gear or pads, I kept adding more power until finally, I landed a punch on his solar plexus that made him wince.

He wheezed out a laugh and declared, “I think I actually felt that.”

“And on that note,” Thor said, “I think it is time to stop, for you have pushed yourself to your limits.”

I realised how hard I was panting and nodded tiredly. “Yeah,” I said breathlessly.

Thor grinned and walked over to me with a water bottle. He handed it to me and I took it gratefully and began gulping down the water. A lot of it fell down my chin to my chest, but I didn’t care. It helped cool me down, actually.

“You did very well, my lady,” Thor beamed. “Or should I say, _little Valkyrie_?”

I coughed out some water, seeing Loki furiously turn at Thor from the corner of my eye. Once I’d done coughing and wheezing, I asked, “What does that mean? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something truly offensive.”

Thor’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. “Oh, no, no, not at all! It is nothing like that, I swear by Odin’s beard! No, it means –”

Loki stepped in between me and Thor, his back to me and whispered something in his brother’s ear. I could only make out Thor nodding, after which he walked up to Nat, who had been observing our exchange in silence. Loki stood in front of me once more, smiling cheekily at me.

I stared at him warily. “What?”

“Nothing. Just remembering how similar today’s session was to your first training session with Barton. We never got down to discussing that, you know.”

Whatever I’d been feeling for him during the fight had all vanished, leaving behind grumpiness and exhaustion. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, but there is. How you were undressing my brother with your eyes." 

“I was not!”

“And yet, you could not keep your eyes off me.”

His skin was slightly flushed, almost as pink as his thin and firm lips now. For not the first time, I thought how unfair it was just how perfect his features were. “Because I was watching the fight, you know.”

“Oh, you were not just watching me fight… you were watching _me_.”

“Yeah, right.”

His smile turned evil. “And how even then you stood with your shirt _drenched_ in sweat and water, just the way you stand now.”

He was practically leering at me as he looked deep into my eyes… and elsewhere. I looked back, getting more and more on edge from a lot of reasons and finally, awkwardly wrapped my arms around myself.

“Oh, no, my dear. If you got to ogle me that day, then I should get to ogle you today.”

My cheeks heated up uncomfortably and I dropped my head. “Just shut up and leave me alone, Loki. I got the message from you and I won’t seek you out anymore, so stop bothering me.”

Before he could say anything more, Nat came over.

“Are you ready to go back?” she asked. 

“Yes,” I said gratefully.

She walked me back to my apartment like Clint had. When we reached, I turned around to smile at her. 

“Thank you so much for taking out the time for me today, Nat. I really appreciate it.”

She looked pleased enough, yet there was an oddly calculating look on her face. “Not at all. It was my pleasure – even though Loki hijacked most of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Nice of him to help.”

“I suppose.”

“He did spend a lot of time on you. And he was very patient.”

“Yeah, I’m grateful,” I said, not sure what she wanted to hear, “but thank you so much as well. I mean it.” 

This time, her smile reached her eyes. “You are welcome, solnyshka. Have a good rest of your day.”

And on that note, she departed, leaving me alone with my partly excited, partly depressed self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you for the grand response last chapter. So glad you enjoyed it so much!
> 
> 2\. I have a hc that in Asgard it's a very momentous for a warrior to let you touch their weapon of choice. Weapons are seen as an extension of yourself (which is why it's important to choose the right kind) and handing it over to someone is essentially exposing yourself to them. So it was doubly significant that Loki let Scandal touch his knives.
> 
> 3\. Thank you also to those who've subscribed to the story! I hit 250 subs and I can't believe there are at least 250 of you who're interested in this story!
> 
> 4\. I'm graduating next weekend, so I probably won't be able to post a chapter on Friday. But don't worry, we'll find out why Loki's been giving mixed signals.Take care!


	34. That Time We Met Our Client's Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You host a surprise guest at the Tower. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185112534767/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-34).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place 2 days after the previous chapter.

Mondays were tedious. They were even more tedious after the Black Widow had forced you to get up at six in the morning to train on your only days off.

I shouldn’t be complaining. How many others would have given everything they owned to be able to train under Natasha Romanoff? Still, I thought grumpily as I zoned in and out of the weekly meeting, I would have gladly paid Natasha money to reschedule our trainings to, say, two in the afternoon.

It was too early for this, I thought morosely as I took another sip of the coffee. It wasn’t helping. Most of Stella’s words were a blur and all I could focus on was how I would survive till lunch. This was bad. We were finally ready to roll out our video series on the employees at Avengers Tower narrating instances of how they had helped or saved their coworkers during the attack. I should have been more excited for this, given that I had worked on most of the content. 

I had not had any experience with content writing for videos before, so I had learnt a lot from working on this project. We had also finished compiling the crisis report, so it was time to start reviewing it. Finally, we were supposed to discuss what more we could do with the PR efforts during and immediately after the attack. Since the PR gig at the hospital had been my brainchild, I was supposed to collate all information, present it and provide tactics for where we could go with it.

In short, zoning out of this meeting was a bad idea.

An ugly brrrr noise reverberated across the table. I sat up straighter, realising it was my phone. I flipped it over to check it. Normally, looking at your phone during a meeting was not the done thing, but we were PRs. If a journalist urgently needed a quote, or some crisis had broken out, we needed to respond immediately. But this was no journalist or event organiser or even a connection that needed a favour.

This was Loki. 

_Come up to my apartment_ , the text read.

I glared at the text and slammed my phone back down. The audacity of the man. Still, my anger at him had done what the coffee could not: wake me up.

Ten minutes later, another text came, making my phone vibrate jarringly once more.

_Come up now._

I slammed the phone down on the desk and turned my attention back to Stella with renewed spite.

Five minutes later, my phone started vibrating again. This time, it was a call. I silenced it and set it down once more, fuming. Did he not realise that I was at work? Did he not realise that I had other things to do other than attend his drama? Did he not realise my life didn’t revolve around him?

Another call. Everyone turned to look at me. Cheeks flaming, I silenced it once more and pulled it into my lap this time.

“If it is urgent, you should attend it,” Stella said.

“It’s not,” I said. “Sorry.”

There were no further attempts. I ran over the content I was going to present and talk about for the nth time in my head, when we heard a crash. Before most of us could do anything other than rise from our chairs, the door to the conference room slammed open and in came Thor. The conference room wasn’t large to begin with, but his bulky frame and larger than life personality made it feel even smaller.

“Good morning, my friends!” he grinned at the silent room.

Had they all seen Thor and spoken with him once or twice? Sure. Had they all seen Thor break into their workplace and greet them? No.

Thor’s eyes finally found what they were looking for: me. “Good morning, my lady! You look like you are thriving under the Black Widow’s tutelage.”

Once again, I felt everyone look at me. Right. No one knew the part where Thor and I were on speaking terms, and definitely not where the Black Widow was training me in self-defense.

Not minding my silence or my blank stare, he continued, “Loki wished to speak with you.”

“Yes, I saw his texts,” I said stiffly.

“Well, I suppose it is not Loki as much as it our mother.”

Thor looked at me expectantly and I realised he wanted me to say something. “Your mother?”

“Yes, our mother, the Queen of Asgard, is here.” He said, as casually as if he were telling me the pizza delivery had arrived.

Stella was the first to break the silence. “Why don’t you see what this is about?” she said to me.

A twinge of resentment went through me. I didn’t want to answer the summons of Loki or his mother, whom I was supposedly expected to meet even though I didn’t even know her name or even the fact that she was here until a few seconds ago.

“But what about my presentation?” I asked.

Just a few minutes ago, I couldn’t have waited for the meeting to be over. And now, here we were. To be fair, I had also been excited to present my work and the fact that I wouldn’t get to simply because the Asgardian royalty was throwing a tantrum didn’t make me happy.

Against what I had hoped but as I had expected, Stella waved it off. “It’s fine. You can send out a memo. This is more important. Keep me posted.”

“Thank you, Lady Lee,” Thor nodded, making Stella blush. So even Stella Lee was not immune to the God of Thunder’s charms.

Thor came over to help me carry my stuff but I brushed him off. I could feel how pinched my face was from annoyance. It was infuriating how I was expected to leap up like an excited little puppy whenever anything Loki-related happened. It was also infuriating how my association with him defined so much else. If it weren’t for Loki, neither Clint nor Nat would’ve taken an interest in me. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be on chatting terms with Tony and Thor. And I wouldn’t be excused from a meeting that I had to present for.

“Are you well?” Thor asked me on the way.

“Fine,” I replied tersely.

“Are you sure? If there is something I can do –”

“I am fine.”

A pause. Then, “My lady, if you are upset with Loki –”

“I am not!” I rounded on him. “I have a lot of work to do, so I need to get this over with.”

“Of course,” he said quietly and spoke no more. 

A small part of me felt bad I’d snapped at him, but I silenced it. I was not the one who’d signed up for meeting Loki’s mother, who was probably going to be as insufferable as him, if how he’d ended up being after a millennium of parenting was anything to go by. And I certainly didn’t want to talk about him, leave alone actually meet him.

Thor opened the door to Loki’s den for me and I walked inside. It was the first time I’d walked into his apartment after that night. In front of me stood Loki, his back to the door, watching the city through the same window in front of which we’d kissed. I stomped the memory and turned my attention to the woman sitting on the white sofa. She stood up when I looked at her and smiled.

Against my will, the muscles of my face started losing tension. My features relaxed, then rearranged themselves into a shy but genuine smile. I couldn’t help it; she was beautiful and motherly and looking at me with such warmth that it was hard to keep up my icy rage.

As she stood up, Thor said, “My lady, may I introduce you to our mother, Frigga Allmother, daughter of Njordr of Vanaheim, Queen of Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

She said my name happily and walked up to me. Her smiled widened, as did mine, but I began worrying if I should call her ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Your Excellency’ or ‘Your Highness’ and if I should wait for her to extend her hand or extend mine first. Just as I started wondering if I was expected to do a curtsy, she pulled my hand into both of her own.

“My dear,” she said in a soft voice, “I am so happy to be able to meet you. My sons have spoken very highly of you.”

I flushed and couldn’t help but look at Loki, who had turned to observe us interact. As always, he hid his emotions well. Our eyes met and I quickly looked back at Frigga. 

“I’m happy to meet you too, um… uh…” I stumbled then looked at her apologetically, “I’m sorry, I don’t know which honorific you prefer.”

To my relief, she smiled. “You may call me Frigga.”

My eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“I understand that this part of your realm does not have a monarchy. It is pointless for me to expect you to honour me according to a system that is not yours.”

Again, I couldn’t help but look at Loki, who had insisted I call him ‘my King’ when I had first walked into his apartment. Frigga noticed my action and turned to look at Loki as well.

“Of course,” she said wryly, “I cannot say if my sons hold the same sentiment.”

“Mother, she is free to call me Loki,” he replied in a tone that could best be described as sulky.

“Ah, she is ‘free?’” Frigga asked pointedly. Loki scowled.

So, Frigga was not only nothing like her obnoxious twat of a person, she also did not hesitate calling him out. This, and her aura of motherliness, went a long way in making me feel less bad about being dragged out of the meeting. She turned to me once more and I only just hide my smirk in time. Kind or not, no mother wanted to see someone having fun at her child’s expense.

“My dear, you are a communicator and an intermediary between our people and yours. So, would you be willing to indulge me and my questions this afternoon?”

It took every effort to not gawk at her. The Queen of Asgard wanted to have a chat over lunch? With _me?_

“I… yes, yes of course,” I said enthusiastically. “I will just have to check with my boss – my supervisor, I mean – but I’m sure it will be fine!”

“Mother,” Loki interjected, “I am sure she is saying that only out of politeness. She has a lot of work to do. She must be busy.”

“Are you, child?” she asked. “Speak freely. I do not wish to take you away from your duties.”

“Oh, Your Majesty, oops, sorry, I mean, Frigga,” I gulped, “I just need to ask one person, but I think she’ll say yes.”

“Stella Lee is not going to accept any excuses,” Loki said bluntly.

“Since when have you become an expert on Stella?” I asked, too sharply. I covered it with an awkward laugh and added, “She’s _my_ boss. I know her well enough.”

“You forget I have been here far longer than you have. I have been here for well over a year, whereas you have only been here for five months.”

“And I have spent every day of those five months working with Stella!”

“And you still think she is going to let you leave work for a tea party with my mother?”

“Yes, because she will want us to put our best foot forward and host her as our guest!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Frigga and Thor exchange a look.

“Mother,” Loki said, “you are not staying here for long anyway. Why not spend more time with us?”

“Loki,” Frigga said, “I am sure a lunch – or, as you have so blithely put it, our _tea party_ – will only take a few hours and we will have the rest of the day together. Rest assured, my boy, we will spend enough time together.”

Loki kept looking like he was waging some internal battle for the next few seconds, so I decided to speak up. “I will go, clarify with my boss and be right back.”

“Are you sure you are up for this?” he asked Frigga. “The dining hall in the Tower serves gruel that can barely be called food and is populated by chattering Midgardians. Perhaps you will benefit from a quiet lunch here?”

Loki did not want me to accompany Frigga. Why? Was it not enough for him to ignore me that he wanted his mother to alienate – hah, alien, geddit – me as well? I looked at him bitterly and saw an unusual franticness on his face. He was apprehensive about something. Was he worried I was going to say something rude? Maybe, but I doubted it. Or… or, I thought, as sudden inspiration struck me, he was worried what I was going to say about him. For I finally saw that mama’s boy Loki did not want his mother to hear about all the mean things he’d done and said to me.

Our eyes met. I smiled. It was a tiny smile, but it was enough to convey the pure, gushing, triumphant schadenfreude.

“Loki, enough. I did not send you to Midgard to see that you continue to demean the Midgardians. I will lunch with this accomplished young lady here and I will speak with you further in the evening.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki replied, thoroughly displeased.

My smile widened. Not even Loki of Asgard, who was burdened with glorious purpose, was able to win against his mother.

“I will go ask my boss. Where can I find you?” I asked Frigga.

“I will be in the third set of rooms on this floor. Thank you, my dear, for agreeing to this. I truly appreciate it.”

I beamed. “It is my honour and my pleasure.”

With a sweet smile at Thor and a final spiteful one at Loki, I left his rooms and practically skipped down to my office. As soon as I swung open the doors, the entire team, who must have got out of their meeting around ten minutes ago, jumped up from their chairs and swarmed around me.

“Oh my god, did you _really_ meet the Queen of Asgard?”

“What did she say?”

“You know, I never expected Asgard to be the setting for Princess Diaries 3, but I’ll take it.”

“How long did it take you to come up with that one, Linden?”

“Quite a while, actually.”

“Was she nice? Was she like Loki or was she like Thor?”

“Guys,” I laughed, “calm down.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Roisin quipped. “Come on, Ms. Scandal, spill the sordid gossip.”

“Well, she asked me if I would like to have lunch with her.”

The team went up in a tizzy again, till Stella shushed them down. “What did you say?” 

“Well, that’s why I came to you, actually. Can I go?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course. What does she want to talk about?”

“She didn’t say. I’m guessing it’s about Loki.”

Stella frowned. “You know you can’t go into too many details about his conduct in general and his conduct with you specifically, right? In fact, it’s better to not say anything at all.”

As always, Stella was right. Now that I thought about it, petty revenge or no, I couldn’t really snitch on Loki to anyone, even if it was his mother.

“Well, I can’t really lie to her and say it’s been a bed of roses.”

“You’ve been here long enough to say the truth without lying. You need to handle this like you would a press conference.”

“Yup,” I nodded, half my enthusiasm having vanished.

“By all means, tell her about the work you do for Loki. Just not about Loki himself.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Roisin nodded towards the glass doors.

I turned around to see Loki entering the suite. While Thor’s arrival had brought about a silence marked by surprised delight, Loki’s arrival brought about a silence marked by surprised unease. Was he even supposed to be here? Of course, he was not allowed to leave the Tower, but after the attack, no one had specified if he was not allowed to leave the top ten floors.

“I need to speak with you,” he said to me. “Now. In private.”

I nodded at Stella and walked past Loki, exiting the office. Loki followed me to a corridor that led to the fire escape. I looked at him expectantly.

“What are you going to talk about with Mother?”

“I don’t know. Whatever she wants to talk about, I guess.”

He took in a breath. “I know you are upset –”

I snorted. “Do you, now?”

“But you cannot tell Mother that I –”

“Called me a ‘little worm’ for around two months? Attacked me? Looked up my skirt?” I asked savagely, already having forgotten Stella’s directive to not kick the hornet’s nest.

He tsked. “Will you –”

“And I will tell her,” I spoke over him, “how you called Nat a ‘mewling quim.’”

“For the love of – what is wrong with you? Why are you making walls out of eyelashes about this?”

“Oh, shut up! Now move, I have a lunch to attend.”

I must have taken half a step to his side when he brought his hand down on my good shoulder, squeezed it tightly, then crowded me into the wall. Eyes flaring with anger and jaw clenched tight, he placed his other hand on the wall, right next to my head.

“You were saying?” he asked, his voice deadly soft.

I started breathing heavily, if not from the fear or anger, then from the heady desire coursing through me. God, what was wrong with me? I should be screaming at him or upbraiding him for his patronising treatment, not getting turned on!

“Hmm?” he hummed, his breath on my face.

After a few breaths, I remembered where we were. “I was saying,” I began, my voice wavering slightly, “that I have yet another thing now to add to my list of things to tell your mother about.”

He stepped back. “You cannot tell her. Please,” he said, his voice and eyes softening, “she will – she will be very upset.”

“I sure hope she is!” I said tartly. “It will be terrible if she isn’t!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were about to confess something painful. “If you do not tell her about my _actions_ , I will speak with Romanoff.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? For all I know, it could be you just saying hi to her.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. But, if you were to apologise to Natasha –”

“ _No_.”

“Fine! Then I will tell your mother the filth that comes out from the same mouth that kisses her!”

I struggled to get myself out of his grip but to no avail.

“I will convey my regrets, that is all. I will tell her that it was unseemly of me to have said that to her and that I regret saying it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Let me go.”

“Promise me!”

“Let me go, you idiot! We are in a public corridor and you are making a scene!”

He stepped closer again. He smelled something like pine and spice, though it was nothing I could put a name to. Was the scent even from Earth? Had Frigga brought it for him today? Either way, it overwhelmed me. This was the closest we had been since that night. 

At the training this past Saturday, he had been methodical in his touch. Whenever his body had come close to mine, it had only been to instruct and he had been careful to keep his distance. But now, with one hand stroking instead of gripping my shoulder, and the one on the wall precariously close to cupping my cheek.

His eyes were darting all over my face, as if searching my face for clues on what to say.

“I never wanted to make you sad,” he said softly.

I blinked, surprised by the change in tone and topic. “But you did.”

Before I could wonder what else he would say and how I would react, he froze. His eyes became more guarded and then, he stepped away. Before I could react, I heard the clacking of heels coming from the side. I turned to find Stella power walking towards us.

“We need you at the meeting,” she said.

I stared at her, confused. She looked at me meaningfully, till I cottoned on. “Right,” I said to Loki. “I’ll play nice if you play nice. Tell your mother I will come to her at noon.”

Without looking at him, I pulled myself away from the wall and fell into step beside Stella.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I was getting worried, so I decided to come fetch you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for doing that, though.”

“You seem to be quite the Asgardian-magnet today.”

I snorted. “Hardly.”

“What did he want?”

“What you said, essentially. ‘Do not tell my mother about my actions.’”

“And I really do hope you take that advice. I know you will feel vindicated if you tell his mother what an awful child he is, but you can’t be sure she will react the way you expect her to.”

“Frigga seems nice – she told me to call her by her name and eschew the honorifics – and she was open about her displeasure with Loki about how he’s been treating me. Not that I was intending to tell her anything, of course,” I added.

“Be that as it may,” she said, opening the door to the suite for me, “you will find that no mother likes being told about her child’s misdeeds. I just learned that my younger daughter has been given detention because she slapped another girl. My first instinct, even after hearing the full story, was that my daughter had had a reason. So now,” she sighed, “I will have to leave work early to pick her up after detention and have a chat with her teacher.”

“Oh, no,” I clucked my tongue in sympathy. “Well, I suppose she will be as displeased with having to stay in detention as you are about having to pick her up from it.”

“Oh, I doubt that. They’re terrors at this age – her sister was – and I’m already dreading when she’ll reach her teens.”

“I suppose you’ll have your older daughter’s help. She’ll be able to relate with her.”

“Maybe. Anyway, coming back to the point, don’t tell his mother anything. Besides, who knows? Asgardians might have very different customs from us. And, they’re royals. I’m sure royals all around the universe can be a pain to deal with.”

I hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, get down to mailing your presentation and writing your memo. You’ve done a great job with the hospital PR and the video series and I want the team to see your work.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Stella!” I said sincerely.

“And it’s almost six months, so soon it will be time for your review. I’ll send you an invite for that soon, so keep an eye out for that.”

“Will do.”

“Now, as for this lunch with the Queen. It is a strange thing, but you’re not just a representative of the Avengers; you’re a representative of humanity, as clichéd as that sounds.”

“Oh, so no pressure at all.”

She smirked. “None whatsoever. Don’t discuss politics. Don’t discuss New York. Don’t discuss Thor and Jane. Charge everything to the company card, as always. Let me know how it goes.”

And with that, she returned to her cabin, and I to my desk, both anticipating and dreading when the clock struck noon.

* * *

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want –” I asked for the umpteenth time.

“My dear child,” Frigga said gently, but firmly, “I assure you, eating this food, here, pleases me. Now, please start yours before it grows cold.”

I had picked up Frigga from her apartment at noon and she had insisted on eating in the Tower’s cafeteria. The food in the cafeteria was outstanding, far better than any food that would get served in other offices. Still, it was only cafeteria food – not fit for consumption by a queen, that too, an alien queen. An alien goddess queen. The atmosphere too was boisterous and noisy and I was worried she was going to be ill at ease here, but so far, she looked happy, or was doing an amazing job of looking happy. She beamed as she finally started tucking into her meatloaf with mashed potatoes, gravy, asparagus and mushrooms. She had been intrigued when she saw we would have to stand in a line to get our food, but she didn’t kick a fuss. I prayed to whatever god was listening – even if it were Loki – that the meatloaf was properly cooked and that she at least deemed it edible.

“So, how long have you been working here?”

“Six months, ma’am,” I said and bit my tongue. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help but call you ma’am at the very least.”

“How do you address my sons?”

“Loki and Thor.” Before I could stop myself, I added, “I used to call Loki ‘sir’ first, but that changed.”

“And how did that happen?”

“We decided to work together like friends,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t dig deeper.

She nodded. “Then think of me as your friend, too. Can you do that?”

I nodded. I couldn’t exactly have shook my head, could I?

“Tell me, is six months a long time to be working for someone? I ask because I am not familiar with Midgardian notions of time.”

She was open about what she didn’t know, unlike Loki, who guarded the fact zealously and tried to ferret information as surreptitiously as possible. Yet, she voiced her doubts with a little more tact than Thor, who often ended up sounding entirely clueless. 

“It’s not,” I said, relaxing a bit more into the conversation.

“And once you start working somewhere, are you allowed to leave should you wish to?”

“Yes. There are contracts or treaties according to which you cannot leave for a certain amount of time after you have told your boss you want to leave – so that your boss can find a replacement – but yes, you can leave. Under certain conditions you can even leave without giving notice.”

“How long do people usually work for?”

“At a certain job? Or in their life?”

She looked surprised for a moment as she contemplated over what she wanted to ask, then declared, “Both!”

“It really varies from job to job and person to person. Usually people in a lower level job tend to work for up to two years at one place. But as your experience and rank increases, you tend to stay longer at one place. And people usually work till they turn sixty years old.”

“Is that an old age?”

“Reasonably old. Though we tend to live for around twenty or so more years.”

I blinked as I realised the strange turn our lunchtime conversation had taken. I blinked again as I realised that if eighty years meant nothing to the two gods in the tower, then they would mean even less to their mother. How old was she? If she were human I would’ve said she looked like she was in her late-fifties or early-sixties. And did she dye her hair blonde? Or did Asgardians’ hair not turn white in old age? She looked so much like Thor – or rather, Thor looked so much like her, with his blond hair, blue eyes and tanned skin. Loki looked nothing like her, though that was no surprise, given that he was adopted.

I had already stopped worrying about making a mess while eating, even though I had chosen food that would have the least chance of getting stuck in my teeth. Something about her invited me to ask questions.

“I’m sorry if this is a rude question, as I don’t intend it to be, but I’m curious, how old are you? I ask because I’m not familiar with your notions of time.”

She let out a warm, gentle laugh. I relaxed even further. It was hard to not like her and I felt sillier with every passing moment for believing she could be as vexing as her son.

“I am over three thousand Asgardian years old, my sweet, and before you ask, yes, that is a long time by Asgardian standards.”

She looked rather good for a three-thousand-year old lady. Then again, so did Thor and Loki for their thousand whatever years. Good looks must be running in the family. Shame the same couldn’t be said for most royal families here on Earth.

“Wow. Wow,” I whispered. “You’re older than most religions present today… and you’re definitely older than the Norse religion – I’m sorry, I don’t know the name for that.”

“I do not, either. Your people gave them their own names. For us, it was a surprise to be worshiped, but we tried to not think much of it – or at least, most of us did not. Some of us, however, were tempted by the notion of being worshiped as gods.”

I nodded, kicking myself for not being able to come up with any intelligent follow-up questions. After a period of silence, I asked. “If I may ask, what brings you here to Earth?”

“My sons,” she replied promptly. “It has not been long – for me, at least. Is a little over a year long for you?”

“I guess it is not so much for seeing your friends, but for family, yes.”

She nodded. “I had met with them when the events of the Convergence happened – you might have seen some vessels land on your planet.” 

“Yes, I know about it.”

“I know it was distressing, but we all would have suffered far more had it not been for Loki’s aid. He alone was able to predict the coming of the Dark Elves.”

I nodded and she looked at me questioningly. “I know. He told me.”

“Oh?” she asked, curious.

“Yeah,” I repeated, unwilling to divulge exactly how he had terrorised and tricked me the night of his first party, when he had told me this story.

“Well, then, you might know that I pleaded his father to let him earn his redemption here on Midgard before he assumed the mantle of King.”

“I do, yes.”

I could see she was not just surprised by the fact that Loki had told me – she was also surprised by how much he’d told me. What had he said that night? Something about how he was just satisfying my curiosity. But apparently, it was more than that.

“Is he doing enough? Does he do it with good intent? I do not want him to abuse this favour I bestowed just to ascend a throne he covets mostly due to the conflict within him.”

I had not expected her to be so direct and frank. I stared at her wide-eyed, trying to work out a response that would neither incriminate me nor insult her intelligence by saying something superficial.

“He has done some things I asked him to do, but there is more work ahead.”

“I know you are here to cultivate the people’s perception of him, but I beseech you to not make him appear to be anything that he is not. He has to earn his redemption, not have it handed out.”

I continued to stare at her, partly in shock and partly in awe. Now I understood why that wretched man – god – whatever, was so terrified of his mother.

“Yes, of course. You are right. And even if I had intended to cultivate a false image, it wouldn’t have lasted long. Things like these come out shockingly fast.” She smiled, her eyes gentling once more. This time, I knew what to talk about. “Do you have someone to do the sort of work I do back on Asgard?”

“No, surprisingly enough. Our reputations are certainly not infallible, but on Asgard you do not need your reputation to get your commands followed. Your strength and your lineage speak for themselves. Of course, reputation always helped grease the gears, so to say, but one would have to cultivate that reputation themselves.”

“And what would a good reputation be?”

“Fearsome, I imagine. Gracious. Just. Iron willed. Willing to fight fairly – though fair is a very subjective word. What is it like here?”

“Generous. Cares for the poor. Respects and stands up for women. Is approachable. We often ask a question like “Would I want to have a beer with this person?” and if you are that person or are working for that person, you’d want the answer to be ‘yes.’”

“And just out of curiosity, my dear,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “How well do I match your people’s notions of good reputation?”

I chuckled. “Well, considering that you are spending so much time with me and are willing to eat surrounded by us poor humans, I’d say you care for the poor. I’d also say you would stand up for women. I’m not sure I would’ve come up to talk to you had you not approached me first, because you have such a regal aura around you, but I know that if I was in desperate need of help and I saw you, I would definitely come up to you. And I don’t know if you’re generous with money, but you have been generous in answering my silly questions and you have been very generous in indulging me even when I have been – or am being – rude, so I suppose that you have a fantastic reputation.”

She smiled widely and it was as if the sun was shining down on me. “You are a very sweet girl. And do not suppose for one moment that your questions are silly or your conduct is questionable. You are sweet and thoughtful and I am happy I could meet with you.”

I tucked my chin down to my chest, trying to hide my embarrassed smile. The Queen of Asgard had just called me sweet and thoughtful!

The conversation lulled and we focused on our food. She was eating hers steadily, with the daintiness that behooved royalty, but was she enjoying it?

“Do you like the food? If it’s not to your taste, we can find something else. If you could tell me what you would like –”

“The dish is simple, but flavourful, child. I see you have barely touched your own plate. Please eat.”

With anyone else, I’d have talked while eating. But with the Queen, I couldn’t help but put down my cutlery and only pick it up once I was done speaking.

“Was it a wrong flight – _trip_ – here? I mean, did it take you long to come here from Asgard?”

“We use the Bifrost, which is akin to a bridge between the Nine Realms. Only royalty and the select few granted the honour may use it. It merely takes a few minutes to go from there to here, but the journey can be exhausting, especially if it is your first time or if you are old.”

“I don’t know; you look rather good for three thousand years.”

She laughed. As clichéd as this was, her laugh sounded like chimes. “Thank you, my dear. Maybe one day you will experience travel through the Bifrost too.”

“I don’t know where to find it or how to use it.”

“The Nine Realms have a guardian called Heimdall. He can See and he can Hear. He can observe what is happening in each of the Nine Realms and the actions of the ten trillion souls within them. If you were to call for him, then he would open the Bifrost and have you come up.”

“But I’m not royalty.”

“Neither is Jane.”

The insinuation was clear. This was why she wanted to meet me. It wasn’t because I was Loki’s PR; it was because she thought I and her son had something going on. And she would be right… except, she wasn’t. Again, it hurt that the only reason she wanted to meet me was because of my tie with Loki,  but I reminded myself that it was the only way I would’ve ever met her. This time, I did not reply. Instead, I merely smiled politely and turned my attention to my food.

She sighed, seemingly sensing my distress. “Does Loki treat you well?”

“I’m sure he treats me like he treats other humans,” I replied carefully.

“Ah, so he treats other mortals with respect and affection?”

Oh, she was good. Frigga, I realised, was Loki’s shrewdness and biting perceptiveness combined with Thor’s affability and warmth, which made her deadlier than either of her sons.

“You should see for yourself. You will be spending at least a week here, right?” I asked, hoping to distract her.

But if I had never been able to distract the son, what hope did I have for distracting the mother he learned it all from?

“I see enough to know that he cherishes your company. And I see enough to know that you care for him, though I will not presume to say how much. I do not wish to imply that you have healed him, for you are not his healer and you should not be, but I can see that your company has soothed his brow considerably.”

I looked down again, my discomfort rising, but Frigga wasn’t done.

“As I said before, you should not hand him a redemption – but neither should you earn one for him. You are fearsome, gracious and iron willed, but do not hesitate to leave a battle you have no intention of fighting. You are not a warrior and there is no shame in that. You should not be one. The universe would be a much better place if we fought with kindness rather than swords and refused to let ourselves get drawn into matters that do not bode well for our happiness.”

“Yes. Ma’am.”

“He cares for you, but you must wait for him to show it. You must be patient with him, for not many ever have. But if you decide that you have waited enough, that there is no happiness to be gained or that whatever you gain from waiting will not be worth your toil, then do not stop yourself. Leave. Do not do yourself a disservice, for you deserve as much happiness as he does.”

I looked away, feeling terribly awkward yet soaking her words in. Was I done waiting? Or was there more waiting to do? More than that, though, I just wanted to run away to the safety of my office.

Her face brightened. “And the only reason why I have not called you just or one who fights fairly is because I do not know enough of you – but I hope that I will.” Saying so, she squeezed my hand.

I finally looked up and smiled. It was weak, but it was sincere. “Then you will have to visit Earth more often.”

“I intend to. For far too long we have ignored Midgard. Yes, your planet might not be as technologically advanced as the rest of the Nine Realms, but your people have sharp minds and sharper ideas to offer. There is much that we can do to mutually benefit from each other. Take, for example, these devices you call ‘mobile phones.’ On Asgard we use seidr to establish contact, but these devices would make communication so much simpler for those who do not wield seidr. And then, for instance, these vessels that you call ‘cars’ are so convenient. We use horses and other beasts of burden native to Asgard for short travel, but beasts tire, whereas machines do not. I daresay the cars are more comfortable, too.”

“Well, at least with horses you do not get stuck in traffic.”

She looked at me questioningly and I explained, “It is when there are so many cars on a road that no one can get to their destination quickly and you have to wait for such a long time before you can start moving.”

“I believe I was in one while I was coming to the Tower. The Man of Iron, Tony Stark, was kind enough to let me stay the night at his manse, which I was told was only two hours away from here, but the journey ended up taking much longer.”

“Welcome to New York!” I laughed.

She raised her glass as a toast and then dropped it. We had all heard the fabled story of how Thor had smashed his cup of coffee in his excitement, much to Darcy Lewis, Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig’s chagrin. He had been very good about remembering that breaking cups and shouting ‘Another!’ was not a polite way to show appreciation for a drink, or request another, on Earth. 

Still, he would slip up once in a while, like at one party, where he had tried strawberry champagne for the first time, or that time I had suggested he could combine his love for alcohol and his love for coffee with an espresso martini. He would apologise profusely, so much so that we’d end up apologising to him for making him think that we were angry at him.

So when Frigga dropped the glass, I knew the what and the why, but I still had to stifle my gasp. It took every nerve in my body to stop myself from exclaiming something like ‘No!’ or ‘What are you doing!’ and even more effort to close my mouth, silence the little wheeze that did escape me and give her a watery smile.

But the clang never came.

The glass rose in the air, surrounded by tendrils of green light, and placed itself on the table with not even a drop of water spilt.

Oh.

Frigga was looking at me with mischief that I’d never expected to see in a queen. “Do forgive me for my fun, child. I have heard of Thor’s encounters with Midgardian customs and I could not resist finding out what your reaction would be.”

I was wrong. Frigga _was_ like Loki - out to get me.

“I – I just – I –” I bleated.

“I admire your patience and tact. I know our people would enjoy learning from you as much as you would from them. And it would be an honour to engage you in dialogue concerning the mutual interests of our Realms.”

I got a whiplash from the strange turn in conversation. Why was she saying that? “Well, I’m not a diplomat or even a person who has studied political affairs of Earth in depth, leave alone the political affairs of other planets. And even if I had, I do not hold any official position that our government would respect.”

“I know,” she said lightly, “and I am not suggesting anything of that nature either. But friendship and counsel from a mind unfettered by politics and strategy is highly valued, especially when there have been no relations between two sides whatsoever.”

I smiled, unsure what else to say. Frigga was warm and gentle and I liked that she had talked more about me as a person rather than me in relation to Loki, but her words carried weight and intentions behind them that I couldn’t understand. I didn’t think she had any bad intentions or that anything she had said was meant as an insult, but the entirety of what she was thinking was not clear. She was honest in her compliments and valued friendship and mutual dialogue, and chose her words carefully. It was apparent that her sons had inherited their best qualities from her.

I noticed her plate was empty and wondered if I should stop eating, just like how everyone else stopped eating when the Queen of Britain was finished with her meal. “Would you like me to show you the Tower?”

“But you have not finished your food!”

“Oh, it’s alright, I don’t have much of an appetite anyway, besides, it’s rude to eat when the Queen is done eating, right? Or so I’ve heard?” I trailed off, wondering if it was sensible to apply Earth etiquette to Asgard.

“There is no such rule on Asgard, my dear. Please finish your meal. I am content to converse with you over your lunch. Besides, Thor has been waiting most eagerly to introduce me to his newest warrior friends. I think I will let him have this honour.”

We chatted some more and after I had escorted her back to her apartment and thanked each other for the honour of the other’s company, I went back to my office. As expected, I was hounded by questions from my coworkers. It wasn’t the first time I’d been the centre of attention, though I had still not got used to it. After a while, I shooed them away, citing the work that I – that we all – needed to do. The lunch and the gossip had made me fall behind my work, so I had to stay back after hours. 

So when I crawled into my apartment, exhausted, it was no surprise that I missed at first the face that I both wanted and did not want to see: Loki’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So if any of you missed my obnoxious posts on my Tumblr or Twitter, I graduated. Yay. 
> 
> 2\. I'm not really happy with this chapter so do share any feedback you have.
> 
> 3\. We're at 183k words. How are you guys still reading this?


	35. That Time We Did Background Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Loki hash out your problems... sort of. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185275087492/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-35).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after the previous chapter.

_So when I crawled into my apartment, exhausted, it was no surprise that I missed at first the face that I both wanted and did not want to see: Loki’s._

* * *

He stood by the glass wall, like he had in his apartment. He watched me as I chucked my bag on the couch, kicked off my shoes and walked over to the kitchenette, ignoring him. If he wanted to say something, he was free to say it, and if not, he was free to leave. His presence made my head and heart ache. Over the past few months, I’d got used to him being in and around my room rather than not, and to not have seen him for two weeks until tonight upset me more than it should have. I stared into the fridge, willing myself to focus on what to prepare rather than what to say.

My focus weakened when he came over to me. He opened a cabinet and took out a plate. Next, he pulled open a drawer and fetched some cutlery and laid the items on the counter. I toyed with whether I wanted to use the utensils he’d pulled out or to pull out other ones myself to make a statement. But it would make it seem like I’m in a mood to banter with him, which I was not, so I reluctantly poured my food on to the plate he’d set out. I put it in the microwave, and never had I watched the microwave count down with as much interest as I did now.

He stepped closer to me, this time going for the kettle. He opened the cabinet to fetch a cup and the drawer for a teaspoon. He brought down the sugar from the rack above the stove, added it to the cup and put it back. Then, he poured the contents of the kettle into the cup. It was strange to see how he had become so familiar with my apartment.

Before the microwave could make its obnoxious beeping noise, I shut it, pulled open the door and retrieved my food. Without a word or a glance, I walked to my room with every intention of locking the door from inside.

“Stay,” he said.

I froze. Then, I felt angry at myself for heeding his command like a trained dog and started walking again.

“Please,” he added. 

“I’m tired. If you wish to talk, we can set up a meeting in the morning.”

“It would be wiser to talk now.”

“No.”

I started walking again, but he teleported and appeared right in front of me.

“Loki,” I said, exasperated, “please.”

“I made you tea,” he said and held out the cup.

“I don’t want tea.”

“It promotes a restful sleep and soothes your muscles.”

“I’m tired enough to fall asleep by myself without any tea.”

“It is from Asgard.”

“Then drink it yourself.”

“My mother intended it for you.”

I wanted to throw my plate in his face for pulling the mother card. Damn him. Damn his mother too, for her niceness was going to cost me my peace of mind. With curses and grumbles, I plonked down into the couch.

“Fine! Put it on the table!”

He did as I commanded, then walked back to the kitchenette. Curiosity won, and I turned to see what he was doing. He picked up the cutlery he’d set out – that I’d forgotten – and brought it to me. With a huff, I snatched it from him. I could practically hear his grin as he walked around and seated himself at the other end of the couch.

“Think of it this way,” he said, “If I say anything displeasing, you can always throw it in my face.” 

“Your breathing is displeasing.”

He chuckled. “I missed you.”

I scowled. The nerve of that man.

He must have gathered what I was feeling, for he said, “I know I have not acted like I have missed you and that I have shunned you away. I was wrong; I know that now. I am not here to offer apologies, but I will offer explanations.”

I shrugged and focused on my food.

“Will you at least look at me?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Very well. That is your right. Will you at least have the tea?”

I set the plate down, took a sip of the tea, picked up the plate again and looked at him, unamused.

“Do you like it?”

I did. It was definitely not of Earth origin. It had tasted floral with a hint of spice and sweetness. Though there was just water in the cup, the tea tasted as if it had more body to it.

“Get to the point,” I said, once again focusing on my food.

“I keep thinking about that night with you.” 

A shiver ran through me, which I chose to hide by taking another sip of the tea. If it indeed was relaxing, then it should start working its magic now.

He continued, “I keep thinking about how good I felt and how good I wanted to make you feel.”

I tucked my face further down.

“I wanted you to stay with me, but I was happy you did not. I was worried, you see, that we were rushing into this whirlpool and I was worried that you deserved better.”

I couldn’t help but look up. I frowned at him in confusion. Of all the things I thought had happened, him worrying that _he_ didn’t deserve _me_ wasn’t one of them.

“You are… sweet,” he said after a pause, as if grasping for the right word, “Delicate. Open. I am none of this, yet as bad as that might be, I am something worse. I am a monster.” 

“What?” I snapped, unable to control myself any longer. “Look, if you’re talking about all the shit you did in the first two months, then yes, that was horrible, but I explicitly said I forgive you, so –”

He raised his hand. “I am not finished.”

I glowered and took an exaggeratedly loud slurp. It seemed like Loki was negating the effects of the tea. 

“You know I am adopted and though you refer to me as such, I am not truly Asgardian. I was born and brought up there, but I am not Asgardian by birth. My true origins are Jötnar. I am a Jötunn, although they deserve to be called as Frost Giants,” he said with a sneer. “They are monsters in mind and in flesh. They are crude and barbarous and primitive. They have few resources and fewer scruples. They came down to your planet to conquer it and turn it into a land of perpetual winter where they may prosper and breed and spread to the rest of the Nine Realms and beyond. And I am one of them.”

He looked at me expectantly, and I at him warily. What did he want me to say?

“And how is this related to me?” 

“How can you not see?” he hissed. “I can – and I will – and I have hurt you! I have hurt you in some ways and I will hurt you in others and I promised you I will not,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. He reached out for my hands and without thinking, I gave them, but he pulled his hands back and said, “Even my touch can burn you.”

I snorted. “Yeah right. You’ve touched me so many times!”

“In my true form, I mean.”

I frowned. “What is your true form?”

His eyes became cold and guarded. “I will not show it to you.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you want to see it? So that you can spit ‘Monster!” in my face?”

“What? No!” I cried. “I don’t even know what you look like or what you’re talking about, and till a few years ago I didn’t even know aliens existed!”

“Oh, aliens exist. Gods exist. Handsome, dashing heroes exist. And monsters do too.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re going to become a whole other entity all of a sudden! And if you’re not going to show me your true form, then what does it matter?”

“The monster is still within and one day, the monster will break loose once more, but I will be damned if I let myself hurt you again.”

I took in a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. I was running on empty. How did one console their alien whatever that he wasn’t a monster? What did you say to get him to stop this extreme self-loathing, especially when you had never heard of this till one minute ago?

“Loki, whatever you are, you won’t hurt me. And even if you felt inclined to because of your birth, which I really doubt, but let’s suppose it to be true, you’d always keep yourself in check because of how you’ve been brought up.”

He snorted. “Odin would not have let himself be seen as raising the son of his sworn enemy. He put a charm on me to make me look Asgardian, so that I could be raised as his trueborn son, but he never treated me as one.”

I put down my plate and slid closer to him. “Loki,” I muttered and tried to reach for his arm, but he jerked it away. I retracted mine, aghast. “I don’t know about Odin, but you know that your mother and Thor love you for who you are, not what you are.” 

He scoffed. “Yes, _Thor_ , the very same brother who wanted to exterminate my kind because one of them called him a ‘little princess.’ _Thor_ , who did not care about his friends dying as long as he got to bathe in Jötunn blood for the sake of his ego.”

I swallowed, unsure whether continuing to mention Thor was a good idea. “Okay, but your mother, she has always loved you no matter what, right? Right?”

“And yet she lied to me all my life.”

“Yes, but she still loves you.”

“Should the ones who love you conceal a truth so grave?”

“No – I – I don’t know,” I admitted. His revelation and his tone had taken me by surprise, but even if they hadn’t, I had no idea how to proceed. “Look, you’re right, she should have told you. I don’t know how you found out, but from what I guess, it must have been awful. But, please,” I babbled, unsure where I was heading. I slid even closer to him and reached out for him again.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarled.

I leapt back, raising my hands in surrender. For the first time in a long time I saw rage and hatred in his eyes. My mind went back to the day of the lunch, when I had taunted him about not being a king of Asgard because he was not Asgardian. I had made the taunt knowing that he was adopted, but I had never guessed until today how deep the wound I’d inflicted was. The fear drained out of me and all there was left was regret and shame. I couldn’t get him to accept the logic of my arguments, but I could show him how sorry I was and how much I cared.

“If you don’t want me to touch you and you don’t want to touch me, then why are you here?” I asked softly.

The rage drained out of him as well, leaving behind exhaustion and sorrow that, for the first time, made him appear to be as old as his actual age.

“As I once told you, I do not deserve your faith or compassion, but I still desire them.”

“And you have them.”

“I am not worthy. I never have been – of anything.”

“You have them regardless of if you are.”

“Only till you do not see the beast – but you have already seen the beast within, have you not? What else do you think happened when I grabbed you and almost slashed your throat that day?”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to relive that memory. It wasn’t who or what he was at birth who’d made him act that way, but now was not the time to tell him that. “And you made up for it twice over. And you apologised. And here you are, explaining to me why you have tried to stay away because you were worried for me. They… they don’t do that,” I said, unwilling to say the word ‘monster.’

“You cannot even say the word and yet you think you can bear me?” he laughed bitterly.

“Try me, bitch!” I said before thinking. As soon as the words were out, my hands flew to my mouth. His eyes narrowed, first in confusion then in outrage.

“ _What_ did you –”

“It’s a meme! It’s a meme!” I shrieked, my hands now covering my face. I tore my hands away and inched back closer to him. “It’s a – oh, how the fuck do I explain a meme to you? It’s a thing that we say! Ironically! As a joke! When someone’s challenging us! I’m not – I’m not actually calling you… that.”

The edge of his anger dissipated, but he still wasn’t too thrilled with me. I slid a little closer, not missing how warily he was looking at me. He looked more like a cornered animal than the abomination he was claiming to be.

“My point is,” I continued, more coherently, “you can’t know how I will react just because you theorised I’d react in a way. Maybe you’re right – but maybe you’re wrong, you know.”

He sighed. “I am not wrong.”

“And you know that… how?”

“I do.”

“Tell me!” I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the couch since I couldn’t hit his arm. When he deigned to not respond, I tried to think of another way to get to him.

“You know what your mother said to me? She said to me that you care about me and that I must be patient for you to show me that you care.”

He didn’t reply and he was looking straight ahead, but I knew he was hanging on to every word. “I have showed you I care. I have told you I care.”

“I know. But you don’t trust me.”

“I do.” He delivered it perfectly, but I knew it was a lie.

“No, you don’t,” I smiled sadly.

“What do you really know of me?” he spat.

“Honestly? Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know much about you and I probably never will. But it’s not my fault because you never tell me about yourself. You never show me yourself. And that’s because you don’t trust me enough. I’m sure you care for me, but you don’t care enough about me to share with me.”

“That tea is fuzzing your brains with this sentimental drivel.”

“Well, if you don’t want to hear what I have to say –”

“I _am_ hearing what you say.”

“If you want to keep dismissing what I say, then why did you come here?”

He exhaled and rubbed his hand over his face. “To kiss you,” he declared at last.

That was the last answer I’d been expecting. In my surprise, I let out a laugh. He seemed to shrivel at that noise. “Why? You think of yourself as something wrong and say that you don’t deserve affection.”

“I _am_ a monster and no, they do not, but I remind you: I am a selfish monster.”

“They don’t ask for permission to kiss.”

“Oh, by Hel’s sake!” he swore and came towards me. “Enough with this chatter. May I kiss you?”

“Do whatever you want,” I said quietly. I tried to tell myself that I ought to be patient with him, that it wasn’t easy for him to admit such things about himself, that I needed to be a little more understanding, but I was fast crumbling under my frustration at myself to be unable to deal with this mess.

“Will you put down your tea?”

“No.”

“How am I supposed to kiss you if you do not put down your cup?”

“Not my problem, is it?”

“There is no need for you to act so difficult, for I know you want it as well.”

I put the cup down again and turned to face him fully. “What do you know of what I want? I wanted to see you the next day. I wanted to speak with you, eat with you, spend time with you. I wanted to understand why you were ignoring me. I thought I wasn’t good enough or I did something wrong or I didn’t do something you wanted me to do! I kept tossing and turning and wondering why I wasn’t good enough!”

“You _are_ good,” he said fiercely.

“How was I to know? You were ignoring me! I wanted answers and if not answers, then I wanted closure from you! For you to say that you didn’t want this or didn’t want me or whatever! And here you are, telling me you don’t want to be with me but still demanding a kiss! What do you want me to say?”

“If you are looking for an apology, then spare yourself the disappointment,” he snarked.

“I am _not_ looking for an apology!” I snapped. “All I’m looking for is you to make sense! Make up your mind! Loki, please,” I said desperately, going for his arm again. He didn’t pull it back, but it was apparent he wanted to. My anger flared up again. “You don’t even want to me to touch you! Why? Why? You said – you said I could!”

“Because you should not tempt me. You do not know what darkness I am capable of. Worse, _I_ do not know what I am capable of,” he said bitterly.

I stomped my foot. “That is a whole other story,” I said, thinking of New York and wondering if that was what he meant too. “Going by how you’ve dealt with me after that lunch, however, you could not have been more courteous and careful. And in all the times you have touched me, with and without my permission, have I ever been burned? And if it could have burned me, then why did you carry me when I was half-dead in the hospital? Why did you hug me? Why did you –” I licked my lips and finally dared to say it, “why did you kiss me?”

“It is not my touch in this form, you stupid woman, it is my touch in the monster’s form!”

“Which you wouldn’t even show me, so what’s the problem?”

“Enough!” He stood up, looking like every inch the angry malevolent god that most of the world believed him to be. “I did not come here to have this pointless discussion with you. I came here to give you my explanations, not to have you mock and make light of them with your simplistic assumptions and notions. I should have known that your narrow, puny mortal mind could never even begin to fathom the true nature of my revelation! You think you understand my pain? You are wrong.”

“Then make me!” I said, rooted to the couch. “Make me understand! Give me a chance!”

“This was your chance,” he said, his tone equal parts disappointment and disgust.

I finally stood up on shaky legs. “Loki, please,” I said, hating myself for constantly repeating that phrase. “Please,” I started tearing up. I hated that too, but all I wanted was to have him back. I was out of my depth, but I would have done anything to make things better, if only he would just come back. “Don’t – just, stay, please, I’ll listen, I promise! Tell me what you want! Tell me, please, and I’ll say it!”

“There is nothing more to say. We are done,” he said coldly and began making his way out.

“You know what else your mother said?” I shouted. “She said that it will take time for you to show me you care, but that I shouldn’t wait too long, because I deserve to be happy too!”

He turned around, eyes blazing. “Do not drag my mother into this!”

“And she’s right! I’m not going to just wait around for you to talk to me whenever you please!”

“Yes, we are done talking, which is why I am leaving. Do you see how that works?”

“Fine! Go! But don’t expect me to wait for you forever, because I am done!”

“I assure you,” he said scornfully, “you would not have long to wait. Mortal lives are pathetically short.”

I marched up to him, all common sense having escaped me and shoved him. It made zero impact, but it did bring me satisfaction. “Then go!” I hit him again. “Go!” 

“Stop it.”

“GO!”

I forgot that one of my arms was broken and my knee was wobbly. I pushed him again and a twinge of white hot pain ran through my arm and I lost my balance. He steadied me and pulled me flush against his body, his arms as strong and tightly wound around me as that night and all the nights before. I clutched on to him, fearful he would leave if I let him go. He was muttering something into my hair, but all I could focus on was not letting go of him. At last he gently pushed me away. I tried to resist, but I was no match for his strength. He looked into my eyes, taking in my flushed face and tear-stained skin.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I said hoarsely.

“I know,” he said softly, all traces of coldness and scorn having vanished, “I know. I do not want to fight anymore either.”

“Then why were you leaving?” I mumbled.

“Because you told me to,” he said drily.

I thwacked him on the arm and put my head against him again. “Don’t act smart.”

He sighed. “I do not want to see you look at me with revulsion.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

“You do not know that,” he said gently.

“Do you? Do you know that for sure?” I pulled back to look at him.

“You would.”

My heart fell all over again. This time, I tried to make a compromise. “Maybe I would. But can you at least give me a chance? We talked a while ago about how trust is a two-way street. You can’t expect me to trust you if you don’t trust me. I trust you, but do you trust me?”

“And what if you did get hurt? What if I hurt you? What would that do to your trust in me?”

“I don’t know. I can’t predict the future. You can’t guess and anticipate everything.”

“I am Loki of Asgard. The mere whisper of my name evokes fear from my enemies because I can and I have anticipated their moves and motives.”

“I’m not your enemy.”

“No, you are not. You are my little Valkyrie.”

I hit him again. “What does it mean?” I whined.

He chuckled. “First, you will come sit down with me,” he said and began leading me back to the couch. “You foolishly hit me with your injured arm and I need to check it for any damage.”

“It’s fine,” I protested.

“I will hear no arguments. Sit.” He sat down and handed me the cup. “And finish your tea.”

“It’s cold.”

He touched the cup with a finger. A soft green light appeared for a second, then vanished.

“Drink,” he ordered.

I took a sip and the tea was as hot as before. I watched him as he set to work on my arm. He had such a look of concentration as he tenderly ran his fingers over the limb. He was always mindful of his own strength. He could hurt me so easily, but I knew he wouldn’t, especially not out of choice. Not anymore. I gulped, feeling myself tear up again as I watched him look after me. I couldn’t leave him. Not yet, not so soon, not when I had barely had him.

His fingers brushed over a painful spot and I winced. I tried to control my reaction, but he noticed.

“It hurts here.”

I nodded, though it wasn’t a question. He muttered something and the familiar golden light appeared once more. When it vanished, the pain had gone.

“There,” he said, pleased with himself.

“Thank you,” I said, as warmly as I could.

“Drink.” 

He watched me as I drank, making sure I’d taken every sip possible. I leaned forward to put the cup down, but he took it from me and did it himself.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“I told you, it was my mother who sent it.”

“But it was you who made it.”

“Indeed.”

I smiled wryly. “Now, tell me, what does ‘Valkyrie’ mean?”

He took a breath then slowly let it out. “Fine, you insufferable woman. The Valkyries are a force of women warriors. I call you that because you keep on fighting me.” 

“Oh,” I said, a little disappointed. Sure, women who fought were cool and amazing, but I had expected something a little more… well, something else. “That’s nice.”

He was looking at me with an inscrutable emotion in his eyes. “It is.”

For the first time in the evening, he was sitting close to me. I moved further towards him. This time, thankfully, he didn’t flinch or move away. 

“I don’t want to fight. That’s all we’ve done for the past five months. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want – I want,” I said, unable to find the right words, “I just want something different. And I know you want it too, otherwise you would not have come here. Don’t leave like that again. Don’t give up on me.”

He let out a sad laugh and put his arm on the couch behind me. “I am too selfish to leave you, but I want you to be safe. I want you to be well.”

Gingerly, I put my hand on his shoulder. “And I want to be good to you,” I said, repeating what he had often said to me as I brought my face closer. “Let me be good to you,” I whispered, close enough to kiss him at last.

He went rigid and his eyes fluttered shut. His lips parted slightly, a soft, inaudible breath leaving him. His eyes were scrunched shut and brows furrowed as if he were going through some internal battle. Then, he nodded stiffly.

Heart pounding as much as it had when we had first kissed, if not more, I removed the last few inches between us and kissed his cheek. I drew back to observe him. Now that his eyes were shut, I could freely admire him: the expressive brows; the long lashes, dark against his pale skin; the chiseled nose and jaw; the thin and sensual lips. There was no doubt he was truly a god.

His lips curled into a small smirk. I watched, captivated, as one might watch with both fear and curiosity a creature of the wild.

“You missed,” he said.

“Shut up.” I leaned back in and gave a peck on his lips.

His inertia vanished. He sat up straighter, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in, parting my lips with his own. We tugged and sucked at each other’s lips sweetly, but as the moments passed, our frustrations seeped in again, and our kisses became harder and fiercer. We broke apart for a second, panting.

“I missed this,” he said.

“I missed you,” I returned.

He licked my lips and pushed his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues entangled and fought, much like we entangled and fought with each other. His tongue danced around mine, luring mine out to play. He was relentless; he sucked my tongue and I moaned and fell into him, hands clawing at his shirt and in his hair to find purchase. I conceded and he explored my mouth as he wished, with me occasionally pulling back to tug at his lip or press firmly against his mouth.

His hands were gripping my shoulders and cupping my cheeks. Mine were more restless; they ran through his hair, stroked his face and rubbed the fabric above his breastbone. It wasn’t easy kissing on a couch sitting upright, especially with one broken arm. He kept me steady and didn’t let me fall back or forward, but it wasn’t comfortable to keep my torso twisted towards him while my legs remained in the same place. I entertained the idea of climbing into his lap, but it was perhaps too presumptuous of me. 

Maybe one day it wouldn’t be, I hoped. My hope channeled into my kisses and gave me the energy to draw his tongue into a battle again. His soft moans and sighs delighted me and I answered him back in kind. But the discomfort and exhaustion slowly caught up to my enthusiasm and before long, I broke the kiss once more to release a yawn.

“Not exciting enough for you?” he asked drily.

I just thwacked him again and stared at him blearily. His lips glistened. I wanted to run my thumb over them, but I felt too shy. He noticed my gaze and with exaggerated slowness licked his lips, making sure I watched his performance. I thought back to the Oreos and looked away, a silly smile on my face.

“So coy,” he muttered.

“Just tired,” I countered. “That tea was nice.”

He hummed, continuing to stroke me. After a while, he said, “I should go. You should rest.”

He helped me stand up. I picked up the dishes and washed them and he put them back. He led me into my room and gave me a light a hug.

“I will visit you. Not tomorrow, but the day after,” he said.

“You _will_ , right?” I hated how needy I sounded, but if it reassured him that I wanted him, then so be it.

He nodded.

“Promise me you won’t disappear like this again.”

“I will make no such promise, little one. I will continue to see you and go wherever this strange road takes us for now, but should I feel the need to end this, then end it I will. I assure you, however, that I will not cut ties without informing you properly and in person. Does that satisfy you?”

“No.”

He chuckled and bent to kiss me once more. “So difficult to please. Now, time to sleep. Good night, PR girl.”

I brushed him off, but still replied, “And you, alien boy.”  

He smiled and exited. I wanted to call him back, look him in the eye and tell him to never avoid me like this again, but I didn’t have the guts. He wouldn’t have reacted positively to it, anyway, and it was best to not test this tentative peace any further. I changed and as soon as I hit the bed, I fell into a magical-tea-induced restful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ummmmm how was this chapter? It's relatively short, but the previous one was very long so it evens out. Did you like it? Not like it? Do let me know. 
> 
> 2\. When Loki said "I am not worthy" it was a nod to Mjolnir. And, well, of everything else. Also, "Try me, bitch" is a hark-back to Ch. 21, when Scandal almost said 'Boo you whore' to Loki, a la Regina George. Lot of you wanted to see her actually call him a whore, so here's something to tide you over. Also, PR Girl and Alien Boy *_*
> 
> 3\. There's a reason why Loki has given Scandal such a watered down version of the meaning of Valkyrie. Were you really expecting him to tell her that he looked up to the Valkyries when he was a kid and wanted to be one? That he absolutely adored them and is a straight fanboy for them? And that he has but the deepest admiration and respect for them? Fools.
> 
> 4\. Totally self-promotion but if you are interested and haven't already seen, I've updated [Saudade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678682/chapters/45200245), my post-Endgame sequel-ish fic to JMPWD.


	36. That Time We Amended the Guest List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to get Loki invited to an event. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185436613972/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-36).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins the morning after the previous chapter.

I woke up to an amazing realisation: I was dating an alien.

More specifically, I was dating Loki of Asgard, the God of Mischief, retired supervillain.

I thrashed in bed wildly, squeezed a pillow and let out a squeal.

This was better – and weirder – than any season of The Bachelor. 

I got out of bed feeling uncharacteristically happy on a weekday morning. I got ready, fixed myself a breakfast and went off to work. The biggest luxury of living in the Avengers Tower – aside from the fact that I didn’t have to pay rent and had free maintenance – was that I didn’t have to wake up punishingly early just to travel to work. It was only a five-minute trip from my apartment to my office, and it could be as little as one minute or as much as ten minutes depending on how busy the elevators were that day.

The guest list for the video-series launch was on my desk. I studied it and was struck by an idea. Once Stella arrived, I knocked at her door.

“Come in,” she called.

“Hey, Stella,” I greeted.

“Good morning, how are you? How was the lunch with the queen?”

 “Great!” I said and settled into a chair. “She was very sweet, actually. Asked me about my work, told me a bit about herself and Asgard. We didn’t talk much about Loki. She only told me that I shouldn’t try to present him as anything he was not, or that I should not present him as redeemed if he hadn’t put in the work.”

She mused over what I’d said. “Interesting. How long is she here for?”

“A few days, tops. She invited me to come visit Asgard.”

“How?” she laughed.

“The Bifrost, of course.”

“Oh, _of course_.”

“What about you? How did picking up your daughter from detention go?”

“As well as could be expected,” she said wryly. “Words were exchanged. Zinnia will now get extra math homework for a month and I’ve warned Lydia – the older one – against helping her.”

“Damn.”

“It is an effective punishment. She needs to work harder at math. Anyway, anything I can do for you today?”

“Yes! So I was wondering, at the video series launch next Wednesday, would it be good to bring Loki? I thought it would be a good idea to bring him, given that he helped in the attack and after.”

Stella stared at me for a long time in a way that made me nervous. Finally, she removed her finger from her temple and said, “Would it be good? I don’t know. Will it be allowed? Doubt it. Tony wouldn’t want that. Besides, you know we’re not allowed to bring him to a public space.”

“It’s technically within Avengers Tower, which is a private space.”

“Irrelevant. The government and the media will not see that distinction. And, speaking of the media, how will you field all the questions the journalists will swarm you with?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing too different from what we all do every day.”

“Alright, then,” she steepled her fingers, “what is Loki doing here in this event?”

I blinked, taken aback, before I realised this was a test. “He’s here to celebrate the contribution, compassion and spirit of our employees, just like the rest of the Avengers.”

“Do you think it’s sensitive to bring someone involved in one attack on New York to an event about another attack?”

“He is also the one who saved hundreds of people in the second attack and helped in the treatments of countless others.”

“But he only treated the people who had no involvement with the first attack. What do you have to say about that?”

I stumbled and licked my lips, trying to find a response.

Stella moved on to a new question. “Did you ask your employees for their permission before you could bring Loki?”

“There are thousands of employees. It will be counter-productive and nothing would ever get done if we asked everyone for permission.”

“But given that this is an event honouring those very employees, don’t they get a say in it?”

“Loki isn’t here to take away attention from them. He is also here to congratulate them for their efforts much like the rest of the Avengers?”

“’Rest’ of the Avengers?” she asked pointedly, and I wasn’t sure if it was Stella or the journalist speaking.

“I mean, like the Avengers.”

“And what about an apology? Is he never going to apologise for New York? Are we going to pretend that it never happened?”

“This is not the right event for it. This event is to recognise the efforts of our employees’ compassion and determination for their fellow employees and citizens.” 

“So what is the right event?”

I stared at her, disheartened.

After I didn’t produce a respond, she said, “This isn’t going to work. It’s a good idea, but it’s not going to work. You can prepare however much you want, but in things like these, it’s the ability to think on your feet while still making your point in a polished, articulate way.”

“There is more than a week left. I can do it!”

“A week is not enough for this sort of prep.”

“We’re likely to hear from D.C. any time now. Surely we need to start building a profile for him before that hits the news?”

“If you had told me about this two weeks ago, or last week even, I would’ve helped you prepare for this. Why did you come out with this idea so late?”

I couldn’t tell her that I had literally just thought of it. “I’ve just been thinking the pros and the cons before approaching you with the idea.”

“What are the pros?”

“We get some good publicity for Loki.”

“And the cons?”

“Loki,” I said at long last. 

“Loki,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but he behaved himself at both the parties,” I said, even though he had misbehaved with me in both of them. 

“It’s one thing to take him to a party and another to take him to a highly publicised event.”

She was right; even now, he was a wild card. A bull in a china shop. A force of nature.

And that is why, I said, “I’ll take responsibility for him.” 

She looked at me oddly. “And even if you do, what good will that do me? If he runs amok or does something horrid, I’ll be the one facing the shitstorm.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I looked down at my lap.

She groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

I looked up, hardly daring to hope.

“Fine!” she declared. “You have until tomorrow. First thing in the morning, I want to see a SWOT analysis and at least thirty questions you could be asked and detailed but well-crafted, succinct answers to them. I will call you in for a questioning and let me warn you: I will show you no mercy. If I’m satisfied, I’ll let you speak with Tony, but you must get his approval by Thursday. And _if –_ and that’s a big fat if – he says yes, then you may bring Loki.”

“Thank you so much, Stella!” I said, barely stopping myself from clapping my hands in glee, “I promise you, I’ll not let you down!”

She grimaced. “Go get your other work done, now.”

* * *

 

There was too much work during the day, so I had to do my prep in the night. I worked past midnight and barely slept. Once, I woke up after hearing myself talk in my sleep, repeating one of my key messages that I’d repeated in almost every Q&A. I must have done enough, for Stella ended up saying yes. She didn’t look too happy about it, but I supposed that was more to do with Loki than me. I think – _I think_ _–_ that she was rather pleased with my performance.

Which is why Wednesday evening found me standing outside one of Tony’s ultra-super-mega-top-secret labs, waiting for JARVIS to open the door. It eventually buzzed open and I walked in, equal parts unsure, apprehensive and awed.

There was so much science! So much lights! So much technology! So much nerdery! So much – _oh_. So much America. Captain America.

And at that moment I knew my chances had gone from dismal to zilch.

“Scandal! Now you’ve left me there’s no heeeeealing the wooooounds!” Tony sang/shrieked.

They were standing at the opposite sides of a large stainless steel table with a contraption that escaped description. It had produced a holographic image and had a blue screen and a metal arm, but that was all I could make out of it. Captain Rogers was frowning at the screen but looked up curiously when Tony started his warbling.

I offset the goofy smile on my face by rolling my eyes as hard as possible. “Hi, Tony. Hello, Captain.”

“Please,” Captain Rogers smiled. “We’ve met lots of times. Steve’s fine.”

“Okay!” I bleated. It was amazing how I still managed to be so awed by the Avengers. Then again, I hadn’t really spoken with Cap on any occasion.

“Kid, you’re like one step away from saluting him and singing the national anthem.”

“Tony,” Cap chided.

Tony conceded and reached for a packet of blueberries that was also on the desk. “Want a snack?”

“No, thanks.”

“You know those aren’t very healthy for you,” Cap said.

Tony popped a blueberry into his mouth and shrugged. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time. In fact, if I ever grow as old as you, just pull the plug, please.”

“You _are_ half as old as me.”

“Didn’t you learn in 1945 to never ask a man’s age, wage or emotional baggage?”

Cap shook his head slowly, tired. “Do you want to speak to her before ends up working overtime?”

Tony turned back to me. “Why are you standing so far away? Come here. Come here!” he repeated when I looked unsure. I did as he said. “So what is it?”

Cap turned his attention back to the screen, but it was evident he was listening.

Before I could speak, Tony interjected, “You know, I think your perfectly straight shiny white teeth are distracting her.”

“Have you considered that it might be you doing that?” Cap asked pleasantly.

“Nope. Okay, sorry, kid. Go on.”

I inhaled. “Um, it’s about Loki.”

Tony swore. “Why do we always have to talk about Severus Snape?” 

Before I could say anything, I was interrupted again, this time by Cap. “That’s Harry Potter, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dumbledore.”

“Is that the old one?”

I tried to hide my smile and Tony did not bother to answer.

“I was wondering if it would be okay to bring Loki to the video-series launch event.”

“Why?” Tony crossed his arms.

“Because he too did a lot to ensure the employees’ safety and he healed and looked after the patients at the hospital.”

“Oh, please, he hardly looked after them.”

I bristled. “He visited them for a week. He only stopped because of orders from D.C. Even after that, though, he inquired about them and gave me some trinkets or gifts to give to them. He has also behaved himself at both the parties he has attended.”

“Great, he kept his nose clean and played Santa. I still don’t see why he should be allowed in the media glare at such a sensitive event.”

“He is trying, Tony. He’s doing exactly what you wanted – sprucing up his public image and becoming someone who could help the team. Didn’t you want that?

“He was away from the media scrutiny when he was at the hospital. The staff did not let the media come in, and the same holds true for the parties. But what about at this event where it will be a free for all and he’s likely to do something to humiliate us or terrify the public?”

“You need to give the man a chance, Tony,” said Cap, gently but firmly.

I was dumbfounded. Of all the people, Captain America was the last person I expected to come to Loki’s defense. I had thought that he would make my job infinitely harder, but here he was, actually taking my – and Loki’s! – side. However astounded I might have been, it was nothing compared to Tony’s reaction. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly and I had rarely – if ever – seen Tony Stark actually be speechless. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after he finally recovered his wits, “did you just… did you just _defend_ Loki?”

Cap looked at him dead in the eye and affirmed, “I did.”

“Um… aren’t you supposed to be against tyranny and fascism and that sort of thing?”

“I am and I always will be. But I am also for giving someone a second chance.”

“Do remind me when you became an expert on redemption arcs.”

“Loki has had several chances to run amok if he had wanted to. He could have run off with HYDRA during the attack. Even if he didn’t, he didn’t need to help people then or later at the hospital. He could’ve run away that night when we had gone to the… club,” he said, delicately and there was no doubt that he was alluding to the strip club, “He has had his magic all this while, but he has not created any mischief during this entire time. And he could’ve went away with his mother if he had wanted to. Those are his choices, Tony, but you can’t make the choices for him.”

Tony glared at Cap for a long time before exploding, “Is this about your friend? Bucky?”

Cap flushed with anger but managed to keep his cool. “No, not really. I don’t know if I would’ve advocated so hard for a second chance if I hadn’t seen what had happened to Bucky, but I know that I would’ve still thought that if the guy is making efforts, we owe it to him to meet halfway.”

“Yeah, but you see, unlike your friend, Loki wasn’t brainwashed. Loki knew perfectly well what he was doing and he _enjoyed_ it.”

Cap tsked. “You think I don’t know that? I’m not denying that. But I _am_ saying that before we assume the worst, we should give him a chance because while it’s likely he’s going to end up misusing it, it is also likely that he will do with it what you would want him to do with it.”

“And what if I told you the choice is not with me? You know the government will throw a fit if Loki is seen in public.”

Cap let out a dry chuckle. “Tony Stark afraid of a bunch of tired old men in silk suits? What happened to the time when he refused to turn over his Iron Suits to the same government? What happened to the time he decided that he would put an end to the practice of instigating war and destabilising countries?”

“Yeah, I kinda started being a little more wary of them when they almost nuked the city, as you may remember.”

“You see? That was not our choice. That was the choice they made for us. That was what HYDRA was going to do as well and yes, that was what they did to Bucky. Don’t be like them, Tony, because you are better than them.”

“Well, that’s not saying much, but I appreciate the sentiment. Shame I can’t say the same for Loki.”

Cap exhaled. “If you told me that the government was going to change its ways and become better and more transparent, then I would still choose to believe in Loki. Individuals can change; institutions cannot. This is why we work so well together; we are not just a team, but we are six individuals with our own perspectives and our own unique style of doing things. It makes us unpredictable and it helps us keep each other in check.”

Tony chose to fiddle with the blueberries instead of replying. I was unsure where to look, so I focused on the contraption in the middle of the table.

Eventually, Cap said, “Well, I’ve said my bit. It’s up to you. I’ll see you later in the evening.” He stepped away from table and walked away, but not before looking at me and saying, “Good luck, ma’am.

I watched him leave, partly hesitant to look at Tony, partly amazed that Captain freaking America had not just made a statement in support of Loki, but actually defended him, and partly amused at having being called ‘ma’am.’ A loud sigh from Tony brought me back to the moment.

“See how henpecked I am?” he said. He meant it as a joke, but I could see that he didn’t like what had been said to him.

I smiled uncertainly.

“Sometimes… sometimes I think that he doesn’t want to be a part of the team. That he still lives in 1945 with that friend of his and that he’s always trying to find a way back there. I think he just puts up with me because we fought one battle together. Scouts honour, you know. Or whatever they say in the army.”

“Tony, that’s not true,” I said, wondering why he was thinking this. Between Loki’s and his melancholy, I was reaching a breaking point. “Cap just means it as an advice. And if he didn’t want to be a part of the team, he wouldn’t stick around. Nothing’s stopping him from leaving, you know.”

“That’s exactly the problem. Nothing’s stopping him from leaving, especially now.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled sympathetically. He ran a hand over his face.

“Okay, I have to do work now.”

I looked at him pleadingly. “What about Loki?”

“Kid, not now, please.”

“It’s just that Stella said that I need to tell her by the end of today, else –”

“Please,” he said, followed by my actual name. That was enough to unsettle me. “Not now. I’ll think about it, okay? But not now.”

I looked at him even more desperately, wondering what to say and if I should dare to say it, but he turned away. Either way, we were not going to be continuing this conversation today. Disappointed, I trudged out of the lab.

* * *

 

Stella had not been pleased that I had not got back with a definitive answer and that I had only hemmed and hawed when she had asked why Tony had refused to give an answer then and there. I had a lot of work to finish, though I couldn’t focus on much because for some reason my body was hurting. Combined with the stress of work, the lack of sleep from the night before and the stress of understanding neither what Loki nor what Tony were moaning about, I returned home utterly miserable.

“Kill me,” I said to an unassuming Loki sitting on my couch.

“Beg your pardon?” He looked up from his book.

“Nothing,” I grumbled and went off to change.

And it was then that I discovered that my period had started. Of course. That explained the sense of despair, failure, hopelessness, anxiety and anguish. That also explained the body ache. Oh, and the cramps. It was funny how the much of the cramps and the pain started only after you discovered you were bleeding from your hoo ha.

Muttering and cursing to myself, I fixed myself up and with a renewed desperation for death, went out and declared, “Kill me.”

“What do you mean, ‘kill me?’” Loki asked, looking at me as if he’d learned I had got herpes.

“Kill me.” 

“Why would you say something like that?”

Oh, right. He wasn’t aware of the millennial fascination with death. Then again, I had introduced him to it somewhat when I’d told him that night of the first party that I would face god and walk backwards into hell. Fun times.

Mouth quirking a little at the thought, I walked over to the kitchen to begin preparing food.

“Life is a gift you should enjoy,” he said.

And there went that spark of a good mood. “At least put some work into believing what you’re saying,” I retorted.

My back was to him, but I was sure he was tickled.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Stop acting like a child and tell me what happened.”

“Well, I am a child compared to you. You’re a thousand years old. I’m young enough to be your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandchild.”

“A child you may be, but right now you are acting like an irritating toddler.”

“Oh, just go read your book in peace.”

“You are the one ranting.”

“You are the one who started fighting!”

“I asked you politely what happened. You are the one taking out your frustrations on me. If you do not wish to talk like a mature woman, then so be it.”

“Fine!” I snapped and shut the microwave door harder than necessary.

I had thought he would leave, but instead he returned to the couch and picked up his book. I shot him some glares, all of which he ignored, while my food heated. When it was done, I pulled out the plate and marched back to the couch and settled into it with more force than needed. He said nothing as I ate and continued to read his book intently.

Ungrateful asshole, I thought. Did he not know how hard I had fought for him? Could he not deign to show interest for one second?

 _Well,_ my traitorous brain replied, _he did, but you –_

But nothing.

_He did care, but you shut him down._

He should’ve cared harder, then. I’ve cared so much. Does he think that I’m unaffected by all that he said on Monday and that it had not been plaguing my mind ever since? Does he think that I’ve just forgotten?

_No, you don’t know that._

Yes, I do.

I was going to send another retort my brain’s way when a particularly sharp cramp made me jerk in pain and cry out loud. I put the plate down quickly and clutched my stomach.

“What is it?” Loki asked sharply, noticing my pain.

“It’s nothing,” I gritted, trying to breathe through it. Is this how Caesar had felt when he had been stabbed twenty-three times?

“I have had enough of your wittering.” Loki tossed his book aside and came right next to me. “Tell me what is wrong!”

“It’s nothing, really, I mean it!” I cried, trying to sound more helpless than defiant.

But that did not mean he left me alone. “I can touch your head and see what is wrong, or you can tell me what ails you. The choice is yours, but be quick, before I make it for you.”

God, no. I wasn’t going to let him see my panties full of blood!

“Okay, okay fine!” I said and shuddered as another set of cramps seized my stomach. He observed me with mounting concern and impatience. “I’m on my period.”

He glared at me as if I’d called him a term used for genitals. “I have been far too patient with you this night. If you do not –”

“What’s the problem with you?” I shrieked. “I said I’m on my period!”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he barked.

I groaned as I realised they must not call it that on Asgard. “My menstruation!”

“ _What_?”

“What?”

“Wretched girl, you clearly wish to vex me. Come here,” he muttered darkly and pulled me to him, inching his hand towards my forehead.

“Stop!” I said, gripping his hand. “What the fuck? I told you I’m menstruating!”

“Yes, and that made a lot of sense!”

“What more do you want me to say? That I’m having Niagara Falls of blood? That my vagina is bleeding?”

“ _WHAT?_ ” he exclaimed and became paler than usual, before utter rage filled his eyes. “Who hurt you? Who dared to hurt you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? No one hurt me!”

“Then why by Hel would you be bleeding?”

I gaped at him. “How do you not know?” I said, aghast.

“How do I not know what?”

“How do you not know that women bleed! How did your mother not teach you that? How? How?” I shook him.

“Because women do not bleed from their private parts!” he roared.

“Yes they do!” I roared back.

“Which women bleed like that?”

“All women, you idiot!”

He opened his mouth to scream back at me, but then closed it. Then, in a normal tone, his voice oddly even, he asked, “You mean to tell me… that women on Midgard bleed from their private parts?”

I stared at him, practically quivering with disbelief. “You mean to say… women on Asgard don’t?”

“Why would they experience something so vile?”

“It is not vile! It is a part of my reproductive cycle!”

“How is _bleeding_ from your birth canal a part of your reproductive cycle? Surely that is not what you want your womb to do.”

I buried my head in my hands, unable to believe that I was having this discussion with any man, much less an alien man. Kill me. Someone kill me now, please. 

“If you don’t get pregnant, your uterus sheds the blood lining that would’ve nourished the foetus.”

“’Uterus?’” he asked, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here as well.

“Oh god. I don’t know! Place where the baby grows!”

He rubbed his face. “I see.”

“So you mean to tell me,” I said, my incredulity eclipsing my mortification, “Asgardian women don’t have periods?”

“Why would they?” he said disgustedly. “This is barbaric and primitive. They absorb the lining back into their bodies.”

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed. “This isn’t fair! Why do I have to suffer this monthly while –”

“ _Monthly?_ ” Loki exclaimed. “You experience this bleeding _monthly_?”

I laughed bitterly. “Oh yes! And along with it all the other symptoms like bloating, body pain, stomach cramps, thigh cramps, headaches, dizziness, nausea, oh and so many more!”

I never thought I would see Loki look squicked out, but here we were. “Norns,” he said at last.

“Yeah. That.”

“I still can’t believe you Asgardians don’t have your periods! How the fuck is this possible?”  
  
“And are you sure you experience this monthly?”

“I’m going to hit you if you ask me that one more time.”

He didn’t say much after that and I picked up my plate again and resumed eating. He took out his phone and began typing away. I couldn’t see what he was looking at from my angle, but it was clearly something that was holding his interest successfully. Once I had done eating, however, he put his phone down and turned to me, his patent calmness having returned.

“I read on my device that it helps to have some tea to alleviate the cramps.”

I looked at him, bewildered, before I finally found my voice. “I’m not in the mood for tea.”

“I will prepare you my mother’s tea. It will not alleviate your cramps, but it will make you sleep faster.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want tea.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked me warily.

“Ice cream. Lots of it.”

“I read that it is not advisable to eat foods rich in sugar and fat,” he said even more warily.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Great, another man telling a woman what to do.”

“I’m not – I’m not –”

“I will eat the ice cream.”

“It is not recommended.”

“Are you telling me what to do with my body? I have been living with this misery for a decade! You think you are going to swan in and teach me on how to deal with my periods even though you hadn’t even known till a few minutes ago that women bleed from their vaginas?”

His eyes snapped shut. At long last, he opened them. “Alright,” he sighed and walked to the fridge, fetched a tub and handed it to me.

I wasn’t sure if he was staring at me or the ice cream. A part of me felt bad, so I made a half-hearted gesture to offer the ice cream to him.

He shook his head. “It is fine. It seems that you have greater need of it.”

I dug into the ice cream once more, a little more mollified. Once I’d had my fill, he put the ice cream back, settled back on the couch and angled his body towards me.

“Come here,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

With a huff, I slid closer to him.

“No, turn around,” he said.

“What for?” 

“Just do as I say.”

Rolling my eyes, I readjusted myself till my back was to him and sat down. He pulled me into him and I gasped when I felt his chest against my back and his hand over my lower belly.

“Relax,” he whispered.

His hand started glowing green and slowly, a pleasant warmth started emanating from it. It spread through my clothes and into my belly, into my very veins it seemed, and started soothing away the cramps. I sighed happily and relaxed further into his body. Once he felt me recline deeper against him, his other hand inched between our bodies on to my lower back. I flinched but before I could move, his other hand started radiating warmth as well and slowly, I felt the ache in my back leave my body.

Once the discomfort from my body had gone, he trailed his hand up my back and on to my shoulder, the heat following his touch, and began working on the muscles. He was sensitive to the minutest of cues; if I breathed deeply, he continued and if I jerked ever so slightly, he reduced the pressure. Once he had made sure my arms, shoulders and back were relaxed, he brought his fingers to my scalp and began kneading and scratching.

I couldn’t help but purr as the heavenly sensations flooded my body and made me feel as if I had no cares in the world. I felt more than heard his chuckle of satisfaction. He brought his head closer to me and dropped a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I am sorry to see that you have to suffer through so much pain and discomfort every month,” he spoke next to my ear. “It is remarkable how you live your life without letting this hinder you. I wish I knew what more I could do for you.”

“This is perfect,” I moaned.

“Alright.”

After a while, I broke the silence. “Thank you for doing this; you didn’t have to. You took it remarkably well, given that you’re an alien and a man.”

“What has me being male got to do with this?”

“Most men can’t stand it. They can’t stand the physical or the emotional aspects of it. They also don’t know much about menstruation because it is so stigmatised. And even if they do stand it and understand it, they may not do much to care for us.”

“If this process is essential part of your reproductive cycle, as I have read, then why is there so much stigma?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fools,” he muttered. “Midgardians are fools. The men, I mean.”

“Hmmm. And I’m sorry if I snapped at you and annoyed you. It’s just… yeah.”

He hummed, knowing that there was much I wasn’t saying but letting me know that he wasn’t going to press it. “Apology accepted.”

We stayed silent, but I spoke up again after a while. “You should stop if your hands have become tired.”

“I am a god; my hands do not become tired from giving a Midgardian a massage.”

“You know, I wish I was Asgardian. I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess then.”

He chuckled softly. “No, you would not. But if you were Asgardian, we would not have met.”

“There’s a higher chance of me meeting you as an Asgardian than as a human.”

He remained quiet and I pondered over his words, marveling at just how fortunate I had been to have met someone as incredible and impossible as Loki of Asgard. It had not always been easy or fun, but I could safely say that right now, I was very, very content. What would my life had been like if I had not met him? I decided that that wasn’t a question I wanted to mull over. I tried to focus on just how grateful I was to have found myself discussing notes on reproductive biology in different species, but my eyes drooped shut. The last thing I remembered feeling was being lowered into my bed, and either a touch or a kiss landing on my cheek as a beautiful voice whispered, “Good night, my little Valkyrie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Constructive criticism and feedback is welcome.
> 
> 2\. Literally just wrote this and too tired to proofread so feel free to point out errors. 
> 
> 3\. Gif makes more sense by the end of the chapter.


	37. That Time We Launched a Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take Loki to the video series launch. Read this chapter on [Tumblr.](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185594313267/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-37)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins the day after the previous chapter and ends the week later.

I came back from work the next day to find Loki reading a book thicker than my thumb.

“What are you reading?” I asked and bent to look at the title.

“Human physiology,” he replied, without looking up from his book.

“Why?” I asked, bewildered.

“I have realised that my knowledge on Midgardian medicine is woefully inadequate. I wish to learn how to heal your arm and leg and understand your ‘period,’ as you called it, at the very least.”

“Oh,” I said, awkwardly. He wanted to learn about human bodies from a five-hundred-page book with 5-point font because of me? I quickly walked to the kitchen, unwilling to let him see how taken aback yet touched I was. “Thank you.”

He grunted in reply. Then, he said, “I still cannot comprehend how you can suffer through this every month.”

“I got lucky while I was at the hospital and for a month after that. I didn’t get my period then. The doctors said it was because of the stress my body had undergone and the malnourishment.”

I could feel him boring holes into my back with his gaze. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, there’s something for you in my bag. Open it.”

I heard him rummaging in my bag. I turned to see him open an envelope and read the letter inside.

“I figured I’d give you a physical invite to the event, because you like being a snob in such matters.”

I’d got a curt email from Tony saying I was allowed to bring Loki to the launch event. I’d picked up the invite after telling Stella and had informed Happy, the Tower’s chief of security, about the development. I felt hurt at the cold treatment from Tony, but there wasn’t much I could do besides write him an as warm as possible thank you note. At the same time, I felt bitter that I had to jump through so many hoops every time I tried to do the work he’d hired me for.

“And what if I tell you I do not want to go?” Loki asked.

My face fell. “I worked really hard to get you this invite – and so did a couple of other people.”

“But you did not ask me, did you?”

I looked at him tiredly, feeling more dejected than when I had read Tony’s note. “Fine. Don’t come.”

I turned back to the counter. I was going to have to eat my words later, but for now I didn’t have any energy to argue. I heard him approach me and stiffened when he squeezed my arms.

“Sweetling, I merely jest,” he said. I tried to shake him off but he wasn’t having it. “I know that this is your work, and that doing what you say is my work. I had thought you would be used to my sense of humour by now.”

I said nothing.

“Look at me,” he said. When I didn’t cooperate, he turned me around and moved his hands from my arms to my cheeks. “Why are you so troubled?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

I sighed. “Tony’s just been… difficult.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

“This isn’t funny. He keeps saying that he thinks you’re going to cause mayhem and hurt people.”

He was quiet for a while. Then, he said, “Do you believe him?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then what is the matter? Why do you put so much store by what he says?”

“Because it’s interfering with my work! And it’s wrong!”

He remained quiet. At last, he asked, “Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is it truly wrong?”

“Isn’t it? Are you planning to do something?”

“No, but I have done enough, won’t you say?”

His tone was even and his touch was gentle, yet my discomfiture was at an all-time high. Perhaps if I had been a better person, a braver person, a less selfish person, I would have asked him why he did what he did all those years ago. But I was too afraid to give up what I had just got and too unwilling to even if I had had the guts.

When I didn’t speak, he filled in the silence. “Your loyalty is touching, but it will not last long. Sooner or later, as what is new becomes familiar, you will rediscover your questions and your faith in me will vanish.”

I looked away and he let me. He moved away, picked up my plate and beckoned me to follow him. Once I had settled down on the couch with my food, he arranged himself a little to the side and behind me, like last night, and put his hand on my belly. I ate while the magic heating pad worked its wonder.

“I have told you this before and I am telling you this again: do not put Stark – or anyone for that matter – on a pedestal. He may be a pioneer, he may be a mentor, but men like him will come and go throughout your life and through the ages. Do not put your energies in him; put your energies in your work and make sure everyone sees that. Learn whatever you can and when the day comes, find someone who will truly appreciate your mind. The Norns know your talents are wasted here.”

I considered his words in silence. If Loki being nice and affectionate to me came as a surprise to me, then Loki being so complimentary of me and defending me was even more so. It was strange to know that he thought so highly of me or that he cared enough for me to go to such lengths to reassure me.

“But I do like working here. And it is good work. And I’m gaining so much experience – experience that most people in my profession gain only five or more years down the road. I don’t see how my talents are wasted here.”

“Your sensitivity and perceptiveness can be put to much better use than trying to make the world think the Avengers are likable when they are not. You are also highly resourceful and quick on your feet, and you should be using those skills for something other than concealing Stark’s alcoholism, or the fact that Romanoff burned down a hospital for children, or the other Avengers’ sordid past.”

“And in your learned and most humble opinion, what should I do?”

“Aspire for something more valuable.”

I sat up straighter. “My work is very valuable and I do not need you to decide for me what is worth my time or not.”

“All I am saying is that I have spent enough time trying to prove myself worthy to someone who did not deserve even a fraction of my effort. I simply do not wish to see you do the same.”

“Fine.”

“I meant no offense. I am merely saying that there is so much more that you can do and that you should not feel that Stark’s lack of foresight his narrow mind are stopping you from achieving anything.”

I settled down once more, mollified for now. I was extremely happy with my job, even after taking into account Tony’s reluctance, and there was a lot more for me to do and learn, but I couldn’t help but wonder: what’s next? Where was I going to go from here? What was I going to do? Who was I going to be?

“If I am to grace this occasion of yours and behave myself, however,” Loki spoke up after a while, “I need to ask something of you.”

I put down my plate and turned to him. The closeness between us startled me for a split second, but I managed to resist the impulse to put some distance. “Now what?”

“A kiss.”

I looked at him, unamused. I studied his lips and he smirked. I looked back up at him, annoyed.

“A kiss to make you come and behave yourself?”

“And it has to be a good kiss.”

I was thinking whether I should flip him off when I stumbled upon something better.

“Fine. On one condition: close your eyes.”

He raised an eyebrow but did as I asked. I drew closer to him, my breathing becoming deeper. He sat completely still, waiting for me to make the contact. I forced myself to keep my eyes open as my lips hovered right above his, begging me to slant them over his. I brushed them ever so lightly against his. His breathing hitched almost imperceptibly. I drew back slightly, then trailed my mouth a little to the side.

I kissed his cheek then jumped away.

His eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

“You asked for a kiss,” I said innocently. “I gave you a kiss.”

“You temptress!” he snarled and dove for me.

I jumped off the couch with an undignified squeal. With every step he took towards me, I giggled madly as I backed away.

“You asked for two things, so I decided to split the reward into two!” I said, failing to keep a serious face.

He kept stalking towards me. Suddenly, I was grabbed by two hands from behind. They pulled me tightly into a chest, preventing me from skittling away or hurting myself. I craned my neck and found myself looking at another Loki behind me.

“I will show you what else can split into two,” the Loki holding me growled.

The Loki approaching me had stopped right in front of me. I felt a little scared but also a little frisky. After all, it wasn’t every day that your alien significant other cloned himself to threaten you over a stolen kiss.

“I learnt from you!” I protested, unsure which Loki to look at.

“Pray, tell,” said the Loki in front of me, “what did you learn from me?”

“On how to strike a deal!” I said, my voice high pitched from excitement. “The first kiss was for getting you to come and if you behave well, then I will give you the rest of the kiss. Is that acceptable, mister?”

He looked at me, trying his hardest to not smile. Finally, he snapped his fingers and I was free from the grip of the clone.

“Very well,” he said pompously, “I accept your most gracious offer.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You should know, however, that I will not stand for your attempts to find a loophole around my words in the future.”

“Hypocrite. You did that to me for the lunch. As I said, I’m just learning from you.”

His eyes softened and there was a strange sort of happiness in them as he said, “Yes, you are.”  
\---

“Loki?” I entered his living room. “Are you ready?”

“Come in!” came his reply from the direction of his bedroom.

I approached his room tentatively. The only time that I had been there was on my first day of work, when I was wondering if he had hidden himself in there. He had been to my room plenty of times without any permission, but I still knocked even though the door was ajar.

The last time I had seen the room, it followed the white and muted gray theme of the rest of the apartment. But since then, Loki had redecorated. The walls were still stark white, but the décor included ebony and mahogany browns, forest greens and varying shades of beige. It certainly looked as if he had made the room as his own. I wondered how his room on Asgard would look. The god in question stood in front of a floor length mirror with an ornate gold frame.

“Do you approve?” he asked.

He was dressed in a baby-blue suit with a white shirt. The suit brought out the blue in his eyes and was a good contrast to the darkness of his hair. He looked great, as always.

“I do,” I said.

He held his hand out. From his fist hung a gray tie.

I looked at him morosely. “Can’t you tie it yourself? I don’t think I can do a very good job with my arm.”

“You would still be able to do better than me.”

“Wait, let me show you a YouTube video. You can watch it, then follow along!”

“That will take too much time. Just come here and tie it.”

Even making a half-assed knot with one malfunctioning arm would take too much time. Besides, I had other event-related work to do. But arguing with Loki was of little use, so I set my purse and planner down and went to work. The last time I had tied his tie, it had been before another event. It had been the night Nick Fury had been assassinated and the HYDRA menace had begun. I hoped things would not take such a dire turn again.

I could feel Loki’s eyes on me, but I focused only on the tie. It was weird how at times I craved looking into his eyes, but at others, I wanted to run away as far as I could from his gaze. My concentration broke when I heard the door to the apartment slam shut and a loud footsteps approach the room.

“Loki?” Thor called out and his eyes widened when he saw me. “Oh! My apologies! I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

I flushed, but before he could retreat I said, “Thor, come in, I wasn’t – I’m not – we’re not –”

“I have told you countless times to not barge into my room like that, you bull!” Loki reprimanded.

“I just came to see if you were ready,” Thor said patiently. “Now I know you are not.”

“Oh, what gave it away?”

Thor frowned. “Wait! Why are you not tying your own tie?”

“He doesn’t know how,” I explained, taking in what Thor was wearing. He looked great in a navy-blue suit and a red tie.

“No, he does! I taught him to how to tie it before he left New York for his hearing. And remember, he was wearing a tie at the most recent party as well!”

I turned slowly to Loki, giving time to my annoyance to fully shine on my face.

He let out a worried chuckle and with a broad smile said, “I can explain everything.”

“Can you explain why you’re such a tool?”

“In my defense, I cannot tie a knot as neat as yours and I refuse to go out looking even the slightest bit unkempt. I do have standards.”

I snorted. “Buddy, I can assure you, you’re not meeting any of them.”

Thor cleared his throat. “In his defense, tying even a simple knot is one of the few things he is terrible at.”

I picked up the broad end of the tie and flipped it on to his face. Before he could react, I yanked the narrower end, delighting in the little choked sound he made. “Good, I hope he strangles himself along the way. Fix yourself up and meet me outside in two minutes,” I added as I picked up my stuff and walked out of the room.  
\---

We snuck into the auditorium from a side entrance. We didn’t want Loki to make a grand entrance, so I had brought him from a side entrance well before the Avengers or any other super mega important guest arrived. Loki followed me around as I handled the logistics of the event, spoke with coworkers and greeted guests. Everyone noticed him, but few dared to even look at him. Some of the braver ones, especially the ones whom he had visited in the hospital, were able to stutter out some thanks, but it was only the journalists who really dared to approach us.

The first of them could hardly believe her eyes when she saw us.

“Sylvia Cole, New York Daily News,” she introduced herself and held her hand out. I subtly nudged Loki to shake it. He didn’t look thrilled, but he did as ordered.

She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she fired ahead. “So, what are you doing in a place like this?”

I had given him the Q&A I had prepared and edited as per Stella’s instructions. He had fretted and fussed about the answers and reaching a compromise hadn’t been easy. But true to the spirit of the Q&A, if not the words, he supplied an answer. “I am here to celebrate the braveness and courage of the employees of Avengers Tower.”

“And how does that feel?”

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “I have been living here for over a year. Suffice to say, it feels boring.”

I nudged him less subtly this time.

Sylvia was taken aback by his reply, but she laughed it off. “Oh, I meant, how does it feel like being here at the event?”

“Ah,” Loki said sweetly, “you should have said so. I feel pleased that the employees’ efforts are being recognised.”

“And how does it feel to be the good guy instead of the bad guy this time?”

I saw Loki stiffen out of the corner of my eyes and I laughed nervously. “Come on, Sylvia, the event has barely begun. Leave some questions for the others.”

“Oh, I know, I know, I’m just asking a few questions while the hordes are still away.”

“Well, Mr. Loki is not a man – or shall I say god – of many words, and we do have other business to take care of. Thanks for coming, Sylvia.” I knew she wasn’t going to back down, so I handed her my business card. “Let me know if there are any other deets I can give you.”

“Oh, fabulous!” she exclaimed, mollified, and I steered Loki away quickly.

“That hag,” he muttered darkly.

“She writes for a tabloid – a gossip journal,” I explained. “She lives off gossip.”

“Wretched hag.”

We walked around a little, watching the space fill up gradually. I saw the rest of the PR team meet and greet the who’s who of New York: politicians, celebrities, heads of non-profits, businesspersons and so on. A fair number of people came up to us, asking if they could take a photo with Loki. I declined, saying that while they couldn’t take a photo with him, they were welcome to take one of him.

I wasn’t surprised, but I was a little incensed, to see that it was mostly women who wanted to take photos with him. I was right when I’d told him that night of the strip club gig that women liked the tall, dark and handsome trope, but I wasn’t as pleased as I thought I would be to be proven right.

Meanwhile, another journalist came up, perhaps the sixth in the past half hour, chanting Loki’s name enthusiastically.

“Loki of Asgard!” he exclaimed. “Nathan Portman from The New York Times!” He held out his hand.

Loki shook it. “I see that I have no need to introduce myself.”

“I daresay not. So, tell me, are you a part of the Avengers now?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to be?”

“I do not think they are looking to swell their ranks,” Loki answered, improvising.

“And how does it feel to be living here with them?”

Loki shrugged. “We have our separate apartments and we seldom run into each other, save at events such as these.”

“Would you say you get along well with them?”

“There are challenges, of course, when it comes to cooperating with six very independent and strong personalities.”

“How accepting have they been of you given your shared history?”

“Very accepting, all things considered,” I interjected. “That is evident in how Loki has been invited to all the Avengers’ events, both public and private, ever since the HYDRA incident.”

“And what about before the HYDRA event?”

“Well, I can’t say about that. I wasn’t working then!” I laughed and Nathan followed suit. “Anyway, thanks for coming tonight, Nathan. We have some other things to do – but do let me know if you need a quote, okay?”

“Sure. Good to meet you!” He smiled broadly at us and extended his hand out to Loki to shake it, but Loki had turned away. I quickly shook his hand instead and followed Loki.

“What is wrong with these people?” he asked me, disgruntled.

“It’s their job to ask pointed questions.”

“Everyone wishes to ask me about my past actions, but not about what I did during the HYDRA attack.”

“That’s journalists for you,” I said. We kept halting our conversation to greet anyone else who came up and resumed it as soon as they left.

“How do you tolerate such insolence?”

“How is it insolence to be asked questions?”

“It is insolence to be continuously criticised and treated with nothing but suspicion.”

“Well, it’s not the case on this planet.”

His mood was slightly improved when a highly fashionable and gorgeous woman walked up to us, her eyes fixed only on Loki.

“Helena Stephens, Editor of Vogue” she cooed, extending a well-manicured hand to him.

He held it, but instead of shaking it, raised it to his lips. “Loki of Asgard.”

“I gathered, judging by the horde of people thronging around you. Most of them women like me,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“I must say the ladies in this gathering have excellent taste, don’t you think, darling?” Loki looked at me, smirking.

I smiled sweetly, but my eyes promised retribution.

“Might I ask,” Helena said, “who are you wearing?”

“’Who?’”

“Oh, I mean, which designer are you wearing? Who designed your suit?”

“Mr. Loki doesn’t really give that much thought to questions like which designer he chooses,” I said.

“No? Well, he should,” she said, still looking at him. “Granted, our designers might not be as experienced with the leather and metalwork that you are most known for. Have the days of leather and metal ended?”

“No,” he said airily. “Those come out for the very special occasions.”

“And is today not special enough?”

“Well, if I had known you would be here…”

She laughed and it took everything I had to make myself wait till she was done laughing before I said, “Mr. Loki, I think it’s time we take our seats.”

Helena handed him her business card, unlike the other journalists, who had all handed them to me. “If you ever want to discuss fashion, then let me know. We would love to do a cover on you.”

Loki tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“Your tie is slightly crooked, by the way,” she smirked before she walked off.

Loki turned back to me, grinning. “I told you I am not good at knots.”

“Shut up before I put you in a knot.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Behave yourself,” I warned, reminding him of our bargain.

“What if I want to misbehave with you?”

I swore and stormed away, his chuckle following me as I found our seats in the front row, right next to the Avengers. Thor acted as a buffer between Loki and the rest of the team, and I between Loki and anyone else to my left. Once everyone had settled down, Pepper made a welcome speech, followed by another speech from a senior employee who had helped hide a dozen others during the attack.

Then, the video was played. Though I had watched it several times over the course of the past few weeks, I watched it with renewed concentration tonight. It was a culmination of a long period of hard work from all of us and I was proud of it. I couldn’t make out what Loki thought of it, but I could see that there were a number of wet pairs of eyes in the hall.

All was well, until Tony stood up to give the vote of thanks. Stella had written a good vote of thanks – sincere, yet also in line with Tony’s manner of speaking and personality. But of course, Tony had made a few additions of his own. He spoke repeatedly about how New Yorkers will forever remember not just the HYDRA attacks, but also “all the attacks that had happened before” and that the Avengers would always stand against those who would dare to attack the city or the planet and those who had attacked it before.

I didn’t need to look at Loki to know he was seething.

“Be calm, brother,” I heard Thor tell Loki and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

Loki didn’t shrug it off, but I could tell he was thoroughly displeased by the touch. When Tony ended his speech by telling everyone to head to dinner in the adjacent hall, my ear piece crackled and Stella’s voice came in.

“Keep sitting. I will try to get most of these people out of here. Leave once they’re gone and take him straight back to his room, got it?”

“Yes,” I said to Stella and put my hand on Loki’s shoulder as well. “Please,” I begged, “keep sitting. We’ll leave once most of the media has left with the others.”

Thor kept sitting even though the other Avengers had begun filing out. I mouthed at him to go, because I knew his absence would attract more attention. Meanwhile, I rubbed circles on Loki’s back, hoping it would calm him down. Once I decided the coast was as clear as it could get, I got up and Loki followed suit. I decided it was best to not say anything to him. We walked down the hall and out of the entrance, but as soon as we got out, we were ambushed by a mass of journalists screaming at us.

“Do you think Tony Stark’s speech was a direct attack on you?”

“Do you think you’ll forever be seen as the man who attacked Earth?”

“What do you have to say about the Battle of New York?”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to make up for your invasion attempt?”

To my utter surprise, Loki said and did nothing. The Tower’s security surrounded us and cleared a path for us and Loki was only too happy to take advantage of it. There was, however, one journalist who could not be deterred.

“When will we get an apology from you?” he kept demanding. “Why haven’t you apologised yet?”

I clung to Loki’s arm, wordlessly urging him to keep moving. Still, I couldn’t ignore the journalist beyond a certain point and curtly said, “This was an event for celebrating our employees’ compassion and solidarity.”

“So when will you host another event to have him apologise?”

“We will let you know.”

“When will you host it, though?”

“We will let you know.”

“What’s the exact date you’ll be organising the event?”

“Sir, we will let you know. Now, please, let us through.”

Thankfully, security managed to block him and the rest of the pack away from us and we made our escape. Loki didn’t say a word to me on our journey up the Tower. He remained absolutely silent till we reached his apartment, me on his heels. He slammed the door open, like Thor had earlier today. As soon as he entered, he let out a roar of rage and to my horror, the sofas and the center table went flying into the walls. I screamed and he stormed further into the living room, this time sending his bookcase tumbling to the floor once again through sheer force of will – or magic.

“Loki, stop it!” I screamed, but he paid me no heed and proceeded to do the same to the coat rack on the side and the clock on the wall. I moved around the apartment gingerly, afraid of stepping on glass. “Loki! LOKI!” I screamed and tugged at his hand.

He whipped around, eyes glinting with rage and nostrils flaring. “That conniving, self-pitying, selfish wretch! He thinks he is the one who has done all the suffering and all the crying and that no one else has any right to forgive or be forgiven or to move on simply because he holds a grudge from time immemorial!”

“I know,” I said, trying to get him to calm down, “I know.”

“I subjected Barton to the most torture! I stripped away his identity and agency! I cursed and screamed obscenities at Romanoff! I taunted her with the knowledge of her darkest memories! I unleashed the monster that Banner had carefully hidden away! I made him live as the most hated version of himself! I made him face the monster within him as I have to face the monster within me! My own brother, whom I have tried to kill and spurned numerous times simply because I could not stand how he was the chosen one, the preferred son! And that arrogant, smug, babbling, alcoholic blister of a man comes along and acts as if he is the one most affected and tortured!”

“Loki, please,” I whispered, rubbing his hand in circles, “please, relax.”

“That hypocritical bastard!” he swore and sent another bunch of furniture flying in all directions.

“I know, I know!” I said desperately, torn between feeling upset for Loki, angry at Tony and alarmed because it was the first time I’d seen Loki angry enough to swear.

“Do you, now?” He spat. “Do you? You, who always sings praises of him and looks up to him as if he is the sole paragon of virtue of humanity? Do you really understand what I am saying?”

“I do!” I cried, more to make him stop than out of agreement with anything. “I do! Please!”

Suddenly, he grabbed my face and bent forward, his face mere inches away from mine. “I will not apologise to anyone for anything, do you hear me? I will not apologise and you shall be a fool if you think you can convince me otherwise.”

“Okay,” I said, telling myself that it was just his anger speaking, that he would be more reasonable when he had calmed down. “Okay.”

His pants came hot and heavy on my face. And then he sealed my lips with his. All our previous kisses had had an element of sweetness and gentleness to them, but this one was as hard and unforgiving as he was right now. He pressed his lips against mine and I whimpered in slight pain, giving him an opening to thrust his tongue into my mouth. He made a sweep, not letting me offer any resistance, then withdrew his tongue to bite my lower lip.

I gasped and the pain made me buck into him. I started clawing at him the way he was at me, chasing his lips and peppering his mouth with nibbles and he retaliated with nips of his own. And then, he pulled away from my mouth and left a trail of kisses from my jaw down to my neck. I shuddered and clung tighter to him, losing myself in the sensation. He nipped and sucked and licked and kissed like a panther bent on consuming whatever flesh he could get. I tried to reciprocate, but he wasn’t having it, holding me and my head in place so that I couldn’t move.

At last, he stopped, his head on my shoulder, his pants still warming the now-tender skin. His grip slackened and he just stood there, not wanting to be held, but also wanting to be supported and told he was cared for.

I stroked his back and hair. “It’s okay,” I whispered again and again, “it’s fine. It’s going to be okay.”

But we both knew that it was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Shoutout to BirdOfHermes for giving me the brilliant idea all the way back in Ch. 16 of Loki pretending to not know how to tie a tie even though Thor has taught him.
> 
> 2\. So... we're at 200k words. I guess it's something of a milestone. Is there anything you guys would like to see me write? Be it for JMPWD specifically or Loki in general (drabbles, one shots, whatever)? Let me know here or on Tumblr =)
> 
> 3\. Constructive criticism and feedback is welcome.


	38. That Time We Studied Risk Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with the fallout of Tony's stunt. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185756228727/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-38).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after the last chapter and continues on to the next day.

As soon as I got out of Loki’s apartment, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is he back in his room?” Stella asked.

“Yes.”

“How pissed is he?”

“Very.”

“I’m sending a team up to stand guard outside his door tonight, just in case.”

“I doubt that’s going to help much, but sure.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. Do you want me to come back down?”

“No, the journalists know you and will swarm you again. Come to Tony’s office; we’re reconvening there.”

“Sure,” I said grimly.

I still didn’t know what I was going to say, but I knew when I saw Tony’s face, I would have words enough. I let myself into his office without knocking to find Pepper having a go at Tony.

“How could you be so _immature_?” Pepper shouted. I had never seen her so discomposed. “What do you want him to do? Crawl to you and kiss your feet and say sorry?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be a bad start,” he muttered.

“Stop joking around! This was an occasion for celebration, not to dig up old grudges! If you really had such a problem with what Steve said, then you should have taken it out on him! Why ask Loki to come just to –”

“I didn’t _ask_ him to come, I –” Tony began, but then caught sight of me and said my name in surprise. “Stella,” he added and I realised she was standing behind me.

“Go on,” Stella said coldly.

Tony cocked his head. “As I was saying, I didn’t ask him to come – I _let_ him come.”

“Right,” Stella said, “and when you got almost all the journalists asking you about Loki, whether you had forgiven him, whether he was a good guy now, whether he was going to join the team and so on, you decided to _let_ everyone know exactly what you thought of him, right?”

“Quite right; don’t you advise me to be open with the media, Stella?”

“I also advise you to not be a jerk, but here we are.”

“Well, we can’t get everything that we want.”

“So what do you want?” Pepper asked, exasperated. “Because if you want people to gossip and to think that the Avengers are tearing themselves apart, then you’re on the right track.”

“Oh, please, Pepper, they’ll do that anyway.”

“And you’ve just given them even more fuel!”

“You think everyone is going to think you to be a hero, but you’re wrong,” Stella said. “There are plenty of people who are going to look at this trick of yours with disapproval – _especially_ the people whom Loki saved and interacted with. You know, the people who happen to be your employees.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologise?” He said, then rounded on me. “You’re his PR. Tell me, when is he planning to apologise for the invasion? Have you prepared a statement? Because if he doesn’t even apologise,” he turned to Pepper, “then he doesn’t deserve to be acknowledged, leave alone be on the team, despite what Rogers might say.”

“Right,” Pepper said, “and you’re the only one allowed to have an opinion on Loki, yeah? Have you asked Clint or Nat or Bruce? Have you asked the people whose lives he saved?”

“Well, you know, I asked the people whose lives he _took_ and they had quite a lot to say too. So, kid,” he turned back to me, “apology – when?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. What was wrong with him? Did he truly think Loki was going to do _anything_ after this stunt, leave alone apologise? Loki, who had tortured me for two months without any remorse before finally saying sorry? That too after an event that was made partly possible by him, in a manner of speaking? For without him, a fair share of those employees would have been dead – including me?

Tony was actually waiting for an answer. Stella and Pepper stared at me, as unsure as me on what to say. 

He saved me, I thought fiercely. I owed him this.

I drew in a breath and spoke. “Any possibility of that has vanished after what happened at this event.”

“’Possibility?’” Tony exploded. “Ah, so him acknowledging his crimes and the suffering he has wrought is just a ‘possibility,’ and then you wonder why I am so opposed to you doing anything for him!”

“Well, if you do want him to apologise, then this isn’t the way to go about it!”

“I don’t need a way to go about it! I _shouldn’t_ need ‘a way’ to go about it!” he said, making air quotes, “There is no ‘right way’ or ‘wrong way’ here! There is no ‘way’ to express your apology if you’re not a complete scumbag!”

My cheeks burned. He wasn’t wrong, but I quashed that thought quickly.

“Tony, he saved my life and the lives of countless others.”

His eyes bulged in anger. Pepper opened her mouth to intervene, but he continued before she could get a word out. “ _I_ saved your life too! _I_ saved others’ lives too! _I_ paid their hospital bills, for their temporary shelters, their families to come visit, their therapy sessions too, but you don’t see me brandishing that about every opportunity I get, do you?”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying anything wrong. “You both saved my lives! You both saved everyone’s lives! Why does it have to be a competition?”

“And,” he spoke over me, “if you really take his story about him trying to save you when Robson had you surrounded, or his goodie-two-shoes act of sitting by your bedside for whatever imagined reason, then you are not as smart as I’d thought you were!”

“Tony,” Pepper said sharply, “calm the hell down!”

“Why should I? She deserves to hear it! I have done a lot of good! I have helped a lot of people! And I will not shy away from admitting that yes, I made my fortune selling weapons to the government to profit off and perpetuate the instability in the Middle East – so let me ask you again, why should Loki?”

I bit my tongue again, grimacing at both the pain and the effort it took to not blurt out something that would damage my career or reflect badly on Stella. The only reason hardly any media house brought up Tony’s warmongering past was because Tony’s money kept the city – and a good portion of the country – running. The few who did question his checkered history were drowned by Stella Lee and her splendid work as the communication director for the Avengers. And the few reports that did manage to slip through the cracks resulted in a revoking of the media house’s access to Tony Stark. And by now, almost all the media houses had realised that they lost more by losing access to the Avengers than by losing the ability to publish solid news.

“Yeah, well, no one’s hounding you,” I said. It was as civil and professional as I could manage under the circumstances.

“Well, they should be! I shouldn’t get a blank card for all that I did,” he said bitterly.

It wasn’t just the righteous fury driving him, I realised – it was also his own guilt. I shook my head ruefully, feeling a strange cocktail of anger, pity, frustration and shame flow through me. I didn’t know what else to say. I waited for Stella or Pepper to say something, or for Tony to send me away, but I jumped around in surprise when I heard Clint.

“Tony,” he said, “they’re looking for you.” He had let himself in as quietly as a ninja. “Pepper. Stella,” he nodded at the two women, but when his eyes fell on me, he looked at me quizzically. “What happened to your neck?”

I squinted at him, confused, and self-consciously put my hand on my neck, till I remembered that hickies were a thing.

 _Shit_.

“What?” I asked nervously, stroking my neck compulsively that must’ve surely given away my guilt. “Oh, it’s nothing, I just had a wound there, that’s all.”

Clint frowned. “I see.”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” He didn’t look convinced and I knew this wasn’t going to leave his mind anytime soon.

Stella turned back to Tony. “You’ve done whatever you wanted to do, fine. But I will not, I repeat, I will not let you undermine my team’s work in such a blatant and disrespectful way ever again. I have not worked for over twenty years for you only to have my and my team’s work treated so cavalierly. Just because you do not understand the effort that goes into our job of keeping your and your team’s image squeaky clean. You don’t get it, fine. But you are not the only one who cares about their team and if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you can find yourself a new communication director.”

Tony glared at her, but said nothing. I fidgeted, unsure whether to stay or go, until I found the nerve to ask, “Stella, may I be excused for the rest of the evening?”

She turned to me, her expression back to neutral, and nodded. “You may. Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Will do, thanks.” I shot Pepper a tight smile and nodded at Clint, but left without sparing Tony a glance.

I slept fitfully.

I trudged to work next day, demotivated, depressed and disappointment. Stella pulled me into her cabin as soon as I walked into the office. She handed me some newspapers. I read them, eyes watering from tiredness, barely processing the words, but I caught the gist of it: it was all about Tony’s jibe at Loki.

“Why did you let me go last night? We should’ve worked to lessen the blow,” I said.

Stella rubbed her eyes and shook her head tiredly. “No, there was no stopping or tempering this news. Sometimes, you will come across news that you know will break, no matter what you do or say. Instead of wasting your efforts in trying to prevent the inevitable, you’re better off letting it pass then focusing on what comes next.”

“So what comes next?”

“The media has already started making connections with the D.C. hearings. It’s not long before some senator or the other decides that it’s in his advantage to speak out rather than remain silent. And then we’ll have the human rights and nonviolence activist groups, people who’ve never been five miles outside their towns, NASA and everyone’s mother weighing in. And you can expect to hear back from D.C. any day now.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I didn’t know what I was sorry for.

“I’m sorry too. It’s your hard work and effort being torn down. I wish I could say that we can resolve this in just a day or two, but unfortunately we can’t. You deserve better than this. It’s not fair,” she said bitterly. “You’ve been here for only six months and you’ve shown so much progress. He’s made some rather unwise decisions, but Tony’s decision to hire you was not one of them.”

I gulped, swallowing down the painful lump of emotion. “Thanks, Stella.”

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “If we could get through a HYDRA attack, then we can surely get through this, okay? So chin up.”

We spent the rest of the day drafting statements and releasing them. All throughout the day, I kept thinking about what Tony had said last night. He hadn’t been wrong. Hasty, judgmental and insensitive, yes, and he was definitely projecting his own guilt and fears, but what he had said held some merit. I thought back to how resolutely Loki had declared he wasn’t going to apologise. During my time here, I’d always just assumed that an apology would come about and then it would be on to the next step of endearing him to the people. But now that I was ready to take the step, I realised I had been naïve.

What made me think Loki was ever going to listen to me on this matter, leave alone actually apologise?

And what did that make me, if I pursued a man who was unwilling to even acknowledge his actions? 

I was simultaneously relieved and aghast to find my apartment empty. I ate my food in silence for the first time in so many days. I was as unwilling to see him tonight as willing I had been to see him just a day prior. I didn’t want to talk about apologies and my tacit acceptance of him no matter what he did. I just wanted to hide away and sleep. But I also knew that if I didn’t speak with him tonight, then he would forever presume me to have thrown in my lot with Tony. Last night had perhaps shaken his professional trust in me, but I had to salvage it all the same, and I couldn’t do that if I lost his personal trust in me as well.

With a groan, I got up and made my way to his place. It was the first time I’d gone to his apartment off-duty and after-hours.  

“Loki?” I knocked a couple of times, not daring to call out any louder.

Eventually, when he didn’t answer me, I decided to sneak in. The door was open for some reason, but he was not in the living room. I walked around, not finding him in the kitchen and dining room either. With some trepidation, I made my way to his bedroom. I knocked once more, but again, there was no response. Heart pounding, I slowly turned the handle and pushed open the door and sure as hell, he was inside, sitting on one of the moss green chaises by the window, reading.

“Hey,” I said.

He didn’t reply.

“You didn’t come today,” I said, torn between relief at finally seeing him and the instinct to simply run away.

No reply again.

I slowly walked into his room. By the time I reached him, my legs had begun shaking. I walked up to his side and peered into his book.

“What are you reading?” I asked, but again he didn’t reply.

My fingers flexed in the air. I took in a shuddering breath and asked, “Are you mad at me? Are you angry with me?” When he didn’t reply, I marched in front of him and continued, “I’m sorry about what happened, but you know it’s not my fault, right? Right?”

I stared him down, but he made no response. It was a long while before he shook his head almost imperceptibly and released a sigh.

“I know it is not your fault and that I should not be angry at you, but I am,” he confessed, finally looking up at me.

I swallowed. “Yeah, I suppose that’s understandable,” I said, sounding more understanding than I felt.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” he gestured to the chaise behind me.

“No.”

“You ought to sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Very well, then tell me, what do you want?”

“ _You_ tell me. What’s up? You’ve been bottling it all up. Talk.”

He raised an eyebrow, not impressed with my imperious manner, but he decided to let it pass. “So you finally found the time to inquire after me? I did not know talking with Stark takes so long, for it is usually him talking _at_ you.”

I didn’t think it was the best idea to tell him I’d been dealing with the crisis Tony had created. “I wasn’t just doing that. And before you ask, he said the same old.”

“And did you defend me? Or did you agree with him?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You damn well know I defended you, so why are you asking?”

“And did you defend yourself?”

I was thrown off. “What?”

“Did you defend yourself? Defending me is an old hobby and a rather unnecessary one at that. But did you speak up for yourself?”

“Well, we were talking about you, since that was what triggered this incident.”

“You have defended me multiple times in the past. Did you stand up for yourself this time? Did you tell him that he had no right to wash away months of your hard work? Did you tell him that you are not collateral damage in our enmity? Did you tell your so-called mentor that you expected more wisdom and grace from him?” 

“I –”

“No, you did not. Why not? Do you not value yourself? Do you not think you are worthy of basic respect?”

“I do –”

“Then why did you not argue for yourself just this once?” he asked so simply that my heart clenched.

It was one thing for Stella to be so protective of me, for it was her reputation and authority on the line as well. But for Loki? He wouldn’t have just watched me defend him, I realised; he would’ve fought for me in turn not because he was duty-bound but simply because he wanted to. Why did I keep being surprised whenever he did or said something so meaningful and sincere? Was it because I could not reconcile the god who had set out to conquer earth with the god who had pulled all the stops so far to take care of me? Would I ever? Should I ever?

He saved me the trouble of answering by adding, “He cannot even acknowledge, leave alone comprehend, your work and you think he is going to acknowledge your efforts in saving the city?”

“I’m going to get a medal of honour by the Mayor of New York soon,” I protested weakly, “and it’s all because of Tony’s insistence.”

He scoffed again. “Petty Midgardian titles and baubles.”

“What would you do then?”

He smirked, pleased I’d asked the question. He reached for my hands and gently tugged me closer to him. “I would have named a star after you.”

I couldn’t let out a laugh. From anyone else, that statement would’ve sounded ridiculous, but Loki of Asgard had no reason to be anything other than serious.

And with that same seriousness, he continued, “Or a planet, if you prefer, though stars exist for longer. But planets are teeming with life and history and culture, and I suppose you would like to attach your name to that. Or I could constitute a new force of elite women warriors and name it after you.”

This time, I did laugh. “What happened to the Valkyries?”

“Gone. You are the last one of them.”

“What do you mean ‘gone?’”

He shrugged. “They all died millennia before my birth and Odin disbanded the force. No one knows why and I have tried my utmost to find out the reason, but I have failed – just as I will continue to fail to convince anyone no matter how hard I try,” he finished bitterly.

The spell was broken and I was dragged back to the cold reality. “That sounds very defeatist of you,” I said, trying a new approach.

“Does it, now?”

“I thought you were very stubborn and wouldn’t rest till you had won the game or the battle.”

“I am not stubborn,” he sighed. “I have an iron will, yes, but it is Thor who is stubborn. He survives the odds, but I play the odds. And that is why I would not gamble when I know for sure the battle is lost, though yes, I will not rest till I have won the game.”

“And how do you know this battle is lost?”

“Because I am up against two of the most stubborn personalities in the universe and if you will permit the God of Lies to say the truth, then I will confess that I am finished with trying to prove myself worthy to people who have no intention of opening their minds.”

His words didn’t bode well. 

“And you should, too,” he continued. “You should find work where they respect and value you. There is nothing more for you here.”

“There is you,” I blurted without thinking.

We looked at each other, wide-eyed. He wiped the look of utter shock off his face quicker than me, rearranging his face into a mask of neutrality.

“I see,” was all he said.

Fuck it, I decided. I would play the odds as well.

“I wouldn’t be able to see you if I left. And if I hadn’t joined, then we wouldn’t have met at all.”

And though his face was still impassive, he couldn’t hide the pleading look in his eyes. It was the same longing that I had for him, a longing that only increased every time we were around each other. And I knew it was consuming me in an unhealthy way, but for now, I was going to take things as they came. A better person than me would’ve made her point – whatever it was – and walked out, but I wasn’t her. Maybe I was a lot like Loki after all.

“May I?” I said as I first looked down at his lap then back at his face.

Lips pursed tight, he nodded. Brought his legs together and helped me sit so that both of my legs were on one side, still in contact with the floor so as to not put too much discomfort on my knee. I had started breathing heavily as I registered that I was sitting in his lap. It filled me with a heady sense of excitement and caution. He seemed to be similarly affected, as one of his hands fidgeted on the side, unable to decide whether he should pull me closer or keep me steady. I leaned in, eyes falling shut, but he halted me by holding my face in both his hands.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered and I did, wondering how long he was going to prolong my torture, if he liked what he saw.

And then his lips surged into mine. It was a sweeter, gentler kiss than yesterday’s, but there was no mistaking his intent: he wanted more. The kiss was hot and wet, his tongue frequently dominating mine, until I decided to change my strategy and made my way to his jaw. I held his head as tightly as I could, knowing that the only thing stopping him from breaking free of my feeble grasp was the fact that he wanted this. The thought emboldened me and I moaned into his ear. The combination of my hot breath and my low sound of pleasure in his ear made him clutch me tighter.

I trailed kisses down that jaw I had so often admired, some big, some small, and some nothing more than tiny bites. He accepted it all, humming with pleasure as I repeated my work on the other side. As soon as my tongue slipped for the briefest second on to where his jaw met his neck, he arched into me, a soft groan wrenching itself away from his lips. I went further south, gratified by the warmth of his neck and the salt from the slight sweat of his skin. I indulged in every twitch, every sigh and the occasional whimper.

I wanted to straddle him. I wanted to feel him flush against me. I wanted to alleviate that familiar throbbing, but I could not, for I was forced to keep my legs straight on one side.

“Loki,” I said in the crook of his neck.

His hands had not been idle. They had grabbed my shoulders and, as time had gone on, begun skimming the sides of my torso first with feather light touches, then with sure and bold strokes. His fingers hadn’t wandered anywhere, but now, as he felt my frustration and heard me whimper his name, his one hand travelled down to my outer thighs and the other skimmed a breast.

“May I?” he asked, his voice raspy.

I nodded eagerly, face still hidden in his neck.

The hand on my thigh reassuringly stroked the limb and the warmth from that rhythmic movement added fuel to the heat inside me. The hand on my torso crept fully on to my chest and cupped a breast, a thumb running of my nipple. I moaned at the dual sensation and rocked against him. His mouth found my neck, the other side this time, and stimulated my senses with as much roughness as last time. I took my own revenge on his neck, as enthusiastic as him but still gentler, reveling in the hisses that escaped him.

I returned back to his mouth after a while, slamming my lips on his with zero style or technique. He didn’t mind – the messier it got, the more he enjoyed it. The more he enjoyed it, the more insistent his strokes over my thighs and his fondling of my breasts became, and the more I rocked against him. But still, it wasn’t enough, thanks to the awkward angle I was sitting at. He knew that and so, the hand on my thigh crept closer and closer to my inner thighs. It was slow and leisurely, both to give me time to stop him if I wanted to and to tease me simply because he could.

I growled and he chuckled, bringing me even closer to his chest, his fingers drumming so close… so close… he was almost there…

And then my phone rang.

He snarled in frustration and I looked around wildly, forgetting how and why and from where this sound was coming. Then, a second later, when I realised it was my phone, I reached for the table. 

“No,” Loki growled, pulling me back into him.

“I have to,” I said, just as fed up as him, but knowing that I still had to. “Loki,” I said after he continued to hold me tight, “let me go, please.”

He did as I asked, none too pleased about it. I picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. It was Stella.

“Hello?” I answered.

“The House Select Committee just got back. Pack your bags; we’re flying to D.C. tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Soooooo AO3 goofed up last week and my update didn't become visible on the first page, so if you read the fic and haven't subscribed, make sure to check out Ch. 37 :)
> 
> 2\. Okay, so, [Nacchaloki](https://nacchaloki.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr (Nacchatime on AO3) made this AMAZING Zepeto collection of our favourite Scanki (Loki x Scandal) and also commissioned some highly adorable and beautiful fanart and I'm still in awe of how gorgeous it all is and how sweet they are, so please check it out [here](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/185735584415/saiansha-the-amazing-awesome-fabulous)!
> 
> 3\. I gotta stop writing the chapters last minute till 3 in the morning my time. Constructive feedback is welcome. My fic Saudade should be updated this weekend as well! Thanks, all you lovely people <3


	39. That Time We Discussed Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hear from the House Select Committee. Read this chapter on [Tumblr](https://saiansha.tumblr.com/post/186077034132/a-job-million-prs-would-die-for-ch-39).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place one day after the previous chapter.

I didn’t sleep well – it should be the title of my autobiography, if I ever wrote one. 

My night was filled with some _fun_ thoughts – and some not so fun ones. And try as I might to distract myself, my worry kept overwhelming me.

Now here I sat once more in Tony’s private jet, accompanied by three lawyers, Stella, Clara, Cap, Natasha and Tony himself. I tried to figure out why the hell Cap and Natasha were accompanying us. Were they planning on selling Loki to the government? It wasn’t unreasonable to expect it of Tony and maybe even Natasha, but would Cap really be a part of it? Or maybe Tony’s stunt at the event had changed his mind. However, I was not gifted with raw cunning and political acumen, and I was currently nodding off in a very plush seat, so I was not the best judge of what was – or if something was – afoot.

My sleep/mental gymnastics came to an end when someone plonked into the seat in front of me.

“Hi,” said Tony.

“Hey,” I muttered sleepily.

“Rough night?”

“And short.”

“You should get some coffee in you. We’ll be landing in – oh, how many minutes?” He fumbled in his shirt’s top pocket and pulled out a heavy-looking watch, which he held out to me. “I can’t quite see the time clearly – old man eyes and all.”

I squinted at him but took the watch and read the time. It showed the time in analog as well as digital. “It’s 6 am so we have around an hour left,” I said and held out the watch again.

“What are you doing? It’s yours.”

“What?” I asked, unsure if sleep deprivation had damaged my hearing.

“It’s your watch. Keep it.”

“Whatever do you mean, ‘it’s mine?’ It’s yours, take it!” 

“Nope. Check the back.”

I frowned in frustration but did as he said. There was an engraving on the back and it read, “For Scandal, the true Queen. From, Iron Dad.”

I couldn’t say anything for the longest time. Finally, I looked up at him, lips parted. I wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, come on,” Tony rolled his eyes, “it’s not just a watch! What do you think I do, just gift uncustomised watches? No, see here,” he snatched the watch and turned it on its side, “first, it’s entirely waterproof. Second, if you click this button here, it will emit a laser beam that can damage a lock or in the case of trouble, hurt the bad guys. Then, this button here, will take out a screw to pull out the cork of a wine bottle. No more fumbling around with those semi-instruments of torture. And on the other side,” he flipped over to the other side, “the button here will give you the news from around the world and clicking the last button will command the AI in the watch to hold a conversation with you in a language of your choice. So, what do you think?”

I must have looked doped as I tried to process the information. After a long period of intense eye contact, I managed to croak, “Why would I want to melt a lock?” 

Tony shrugged. He was alarmingly perky for someone who was a night person. Or maybe he hadn’t slept at all. It was easier to stay up late than wake up early, after all.

“Look, one time, this chick tied me up in handcuffs to the bed and I don’t know, I must’ve said something weird, maybe called her by some other girl’s name because when morning came, she had left with the key without bothering to uncuff me. So, if your guy leaves you hanging –”

“ _Even_ if I am handcuffed, I’m not likely to be wearing a watch, am I?”

“Maybe the watch is on your bed stand! Just think of it as sex-ed they never taught you at school, okay?”

“Tony!” 

“What? I’m just being practical!”

I shook my head disgustedly.

“So?” Tony asked, “Will you take it?”

I regarded him thoughtfully. I had never had a watch so customised – or overpowered – and consequently, so expensive. It was also a very well designed watch – neither too ‘macho’ nor too ‘feminine.’ People far more important than me would kill to get their hands on a watch like this because no Rolex or Jaeger-LeCoultre could ever match this. So why was Tony giving it to me?

“Um… why are you giving this to me?”

 

“Because it’s for you, duh. Gosh’s sake, kid, are you always this slow in the mornings?”

I scowled. “I know it’s for me! But why?”

He muttered something to himself before he finally exhaled, “Well, your birthday is coming soon. I would’ve given it to you on your birthday, but then I decided that it’s probably better to give it now.” He handed the watch to me and I took it and observed it.

“Okay, I admit, I _might_ , possibly, probably, _maybe_ went out of line day before yesterday. I didn’t want to upset you or steal your thunder, so I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry about the stuff I said. _Maybe_ I could’ve said it on another occasion, but someone had to say it. So, yeah. Do you accept the peace offering?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked wryly. Despite my tone, I couldn’t help but be awed at the fact that Tony had made this for my birthday.

“I guess. Pepper still isn’t talking to me and Stella isn’t thrilled either.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“No, no. Think of it as incentivising. Rewarding the employee of the month. That sort of thing.”

“Rewarding the employee of the month with a watch which can melt locks?”

“Rewarding the employee of the month who also has her birthday in the said month. Just, take it, will you, for heaven’s sake, if you like it, that is. Do you like it?”

I looked him in the eye then and said as sincerely as I could, “Thank you, Tony. I love it. You didn’t have to, so it is all the more appreciated.”

He exhaled in relief. “Yeah? Good. You were bound to like it, I knew it. It’s a gift from me and Bruce. He helped with the AI. I think he kind of wants to make it up to you for that entire incident.”

“Oh?” I asked, surprised. I and Dr. Banner had been careful to keep away from each other ever since the attack. I continued to be wary of him even though I knew it wasn’t really his fault. Still, it was a very sweet gesture. “Well, please say thanks to him on my behalf as well. I love it.”

He nodded. “Will do. So, we cool now?”

I sank back into my chair with a groan. “Tony, you have to understand: I’m just doing what you paid me to do. I’m not taking sides. I’m not denying what you’re saying. I’m also not denying that yes, Loki has been of tremendous help to us all. I am just doing my job and you can’t keep attacking me for it.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s not fair to you. I agree. Especially when you’ve been working so hard at everything – Stella keeps me informed and it’s good to see that you’ve been taking on bigger responsibilities with every passing day. It’s just that – I just – you know, I can’t –” he gesticulated, but stilled when he caught my glare – “yeah you’re right. Anyway, you thought of a name for the AI? You gotta talk to it like you would talk to your plants; that’s the only way how it will get more intelligent.”

I studied the watch curiously as I tried to come up with a name. It didn’t take me too long. “TONY,” I said.

“Yes?”

“No, the AI’s name is TONY.”

He grinned. “Couldn’t have chosen a better name. What’s it stand for?”

I smiled sweetly. “(T)erribly (O)b(N)oxious (Y)apping.”

“Okay, the blame lies solely on Loki for this one, you can’t change my mind.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t a full Committee meeting this time; just ten Senators and the Chairman. And of course, this time I wasn’t alone; this time I was backed by Captain America, Iron Man and Black Widow themselves. At least for the moment.

“I remind you all,” one of the Senators who had interrogated me, Klein, drawled, “your deal to bring the criminal Loki to Earth was with SHIELD and this very Senate – both institutions that had been infiltrated by HYDRA. You can get all the lawyers you want, Stark, but there is no way you will catch any of us who remain saying that we ratified this proposal. It is bad enough the taint of HYDRA hasn’t left us even after four months, and we will not put ourselves on the line for that criminal.”

“Either way, your name is going to get dragged through the mud,” Tony said. “You think that just denying any association is going to be enough to bail you out, but all we’re going to need is to insinuate that you all signed it as well and poof! I can already hear the angry constituents phoning in.”

“All we need to do,” Klein interrupted, “is to make you out to be a liar, a cheat and a hypocrite, which wouldn’t be too difficult. You’ve hacked into our systems plenty of times – who is to say you didn’t forge our signatures and agreements?”

“A kid in a garage with a Windows XP could hack your systems,” Tony retorted. “Are you going to accuse kids all over the country for being responsible for the HYDRA crisis as well?”

“Regardless,” a new Senator – Roberts – chimed in, “you have to agree you’re not going to look much better either. The Avengers – who defeated Loki – are now the ones taking him in and unleashing him on the city?”

“Sir, there are thousands of citizens of New York who would not complain about him being ‘unleashed,’” Cap spoke up. “Loki is not a law-abiding citizen, but I will say that I could count upon him far more than I could count upon the government.”

Senator Roberts – and some of the others – sat up straighter. “I must say, Captain, we did not expect you to take this side of the issue.”

“Neither did I, sir, but to be fair, I should have known not to count on you when you decided to nuke the city back in 2012.”

“May I remind you, that was an action taken by _SHIELD_ or _HYDRA_ –”

“Which the President and the Senate ratified,” Natasha cut in bluntly.

“We were infested by members of HYDRA!”

“You think the public care?” she asked. “You think the public care if it was this Senator and not that Senator who greenlighted the order to destroy New York? Your credibility is at an all-time low, Senator. It would be messy, yes, but it wouldn’t take us much to further tarnish all your reputations and sway the public to our side. We could dismantle what remains of this government with just a few well-chosen words – and a few well-chosen words are all we need, gentlemen. Think about it.”

“You dare threaten us, Ms. Romanoff?” another familiar face, Garcia, roared.

“No, not threaten you,” Natasha replied coolly, “merely inform. I should know about toppling governments – I was very good at it, you know.”

“In this country, Ms. Romanoff, we abide by the democratic processes that are not swayed by idle winds of public opinion,” Garcia said coldly.

“It takes a special kind of talent to lie about democracy while lying about democracy,” Tony said. “Alright, so, it’s clear we’re not going to agree on just letting Loki blend in with society and offering an explanation only when asked.”

“No, apparently not,” Klein said. “Moving on to the second proposal: the Government takes over the custody of the subject in question and compensates the Avengers for their service in hosting Loki and acclimatising him to the culture of our country and our planet. The Avengers will provide consultative services to the Government for the first six months after the handover.”

_What the fuck?_

There was a tense silence as everyone processed the words that had been said and the debate that would follow. Will there be a debate? Surely they couldn’t ‘hand over’ Loki just like that as if he was livestock. My eyes flit over Tony’s face, desperately searching for any cue to indicate what he was going to say. He would say yes, wouldn’t he? He would be glad of any opportunity to get rid of Loki and not ever have to mention his name ever again? I could already see the decision forming in the hard set of his face, when Cap spoke.

“We don’t trade lives, Senator.”

I exhaled shakily, grateful that at least he had sided with Loki. But the battle wasn’t won until Tony and Natasha delivered their piece.

“You are just a soldier, Captain,” another Senator, Jacobs, pitched in. “Some would argue that that is exactly your job – to trade lives.”

“I am a soldier, but I will not fight your war any longer.”

Another round of silence. The suspense couldn’t have been more nail-biting. Then, Tony piped up.

“Yeah, I agree with the old man. I’ve seen enough of that in the Middle East – I don’t want an encore.”

“The Avengers Initiative was sanctioned by the government – you answer to us!” 

“And here we are, answering your summons,” Natasha said. “Though it needs to be said, we are not your personal team of hitmen or your source of procuring aliens for your so-called scientific experiments.”

“We weren’t –”

She held her hand up. “Spare the sob story for someone else. We all know that with an autonomous body like SHIELD gone, the government would finally be able to get its hands directly on the alien tech and research it has coveted for years.”

“We will ally with you,” Cap said, “We will fight beside you. We will protect the citizens of this country – and of the world. But we will do that on our terms. We will not use any individual as a bargaining chip. We will decide where to go and when to go. We will decide when to support you – and if to oppose you.”

“Well,” the Chairman began caustically, “if the mighty Avengers have made their mind and refuse to pay heed to us who have worked tirelessly for our country over the years, then what is the point of even having this meeting? Do whatever you like, the lot of you, but remember: if we go down, then you go down as well. Remember that when you are deciding whether to support us or oppose us.”

“Oh zip it, Crawford,” Tony called out, “Don’t you dare adjourn or you might find yourself just a few million dollars short of your campaign funding target.”

There was an air of uneasiness among the Senators that hadn’t been there before. They exchanged looks and proceeded to listen to Tony with rapt attention.

“All of you here,” Tony continued, “may find yourself bereft of any support – financial or otherwise – not just from me, but also my friends and associates, if you do not come up with anything that we like the sound of.”

“You think you can use your money to bribe us and subvert the process of democracy?” Crawford raged.

“Um, no, I’m not bribing you. Bribing would involve giving you something, but I am promising to withhold something here, you see? And please, as I said to Garcia here, you all have a talent for lying about democracy while lying about democracy. Seriously, how do you do it? Lies within lies within lies – it’s like the sequel of Inception that no one asked for!”

“You are no one to talk of democracy either, Stark, or may we remind you of all the times you lobbied and counter-lobbied to promote your own weapons and other businesses?”

“Yeah, I remember that all too clearly,” Tony said sharply. “But don’t you see – my money is all that is keeping you and your friends afloat right now. I take away my money, and I put in a word with my friends in the media, and you are finished.”

“Why do you even care that much about that criminal? Surely you have better things to worry about!”

“I don’t care for him at all, honestly. But what I do care about is the team and the fact that I don’t like the government poking its nose where it shouldn’t be sniffing around. Very Republican of me, I know, some habits die hard. But then it’s not every day your government turns out to be infiltrated by fascists, have commanded a nuclear strike on the city you were defending and on top of that, asked you to hand over your man to be a lab rat in Area 51. Believe me, we have no love for Loki – or at least I and Nat don’t, I don’t know about Steve. But it is the idea and the institutions of our team that we are really looking after here.”

“So, here’s what we are going to do,” Tony continued, “we are going to take Loki out into the public with his image and reputation sparkling clean and then, we are going to spin it as the government, as in you, approached the Avengers about starting a rehabilitation process for Loki as part of burgeoning inter-planetary relations and because you were anticipating that a major attack was coming and you wanted to see if you could expand the Avengers Initiative beyond the original six.”

“That’s rubbish. No one will ever buy that!” Someone spoke out.

“You get all the glory,” Tony said, not paying the naysayer any heed, “and we get all the work. In addition, you get your campaign financing as always. And remember, gentlemen, you have need of every penny you can get if you wish to win the House again.” 

“It’s not going to work,” Crawford said.

“Oh, it will. You’d be surprised how things work when you put your mind to them.”

“Not without – not without Loki himself,” Crawford amended. “And we are not sure how amenable he is.”

“Leave that to us,” Tony dismissed.

_Really? Leave it to us? More like leave it to me. For fuck’s sake._

“Well, maybe he is amenable to this entire plan – but is he amenable to say whatever needs to be said?”

Tony regarded him in silence for a while. Then, Crawford spoke up again.

“Because if this deal is to work and if we are to agree to it,” he said slowly, and though I couldn’t see his expression clearly from where I sat, something in his voice made me especially nervous, “we want Loki to acknowledge his crimes and make an apology at a public event.”

My heart thudded hard then seemed to suddenly stop, but Crawford wasn’t quite done.

“And there’s no better timing for it than your upcoming Mayor of New York’s Award Ceremony.”

* * *

 

The rest of the meeting had gone by ironing out the details of this tenuous agreement. It had been painstaking and complex and not everything had been fleshed out, but all I could focus on was how I was going to get Loki to acknowledge, leave alone apologise.

I fretted over that in the meeting, and I fretted over it as we flew back home late in the night. It was a hopeless situation and nothing good was going to come out of it. No amount of persuasion or negotiation on anyone’s part was going to make a dent in getting this goddamn agreement to work. And then I fretted over not just the bits about Loki, but the things that the three Avengers had said themselves.

Natasha’s ‘informing’ was badass and it was many levels of intimidating, if not threatening, but it was also discomforting to me. I knew Natasha was a spy and that she had things that were closer to black than white on the spectrum of morality. But it was one thing to know it and another to know it and another to witness it myself. The Senators deserved no pity or sympathy, but did they deserve to be threatened to be deposed just for not playing ball with three of the most powerful people on the planet?

The Avengers were good, we all knew. The Avengers cared for lives and not politics and money. But the path to hell was paved with good intentions. It was one thing to oppose a corrupt government or a diseased and aged institution, but if we did not confer the government with absolute power, then why should six individuals – that too US-based individuals – get to have a say on who does what. The government was no paragon of virtue, but no one as powerful as the Avengers deserved to have such a long leash either, even if Captain America himself believed that.

The ends justified the means, I suppose, but I still couldn’t move past the fact that Tony was essentially buying the Senate’s support. It was distressing and beyond wrong. It was all too reminiscent of the days when he used to gamble with lives and run the foreign policy with his money to profit off war and to bend the rules for his other businesses. I knew money was a thing in negotiations and lobbying involved copious amounts of it, but seeing someone so… shamelessly use it as a bargaining chip was a revelation to me.

My contemplations were cut short when Natasha sat in front of me.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

Was she here to interrogate me? Had Clint told her about the marks he’d seen? Was she going to put the pieces together? She’d had an odd look on her face when Loki had gatecrashed our training and she’d not been very convinced when I’d lied about Loki gifting me the pendant to wear at that party. Or was I just being paranoid? Was Loki rubbing off on me? Was that why I was so wary about approaching him about making a statement?

“How are you?”

“Tired. You?”

She half-shrugged. Then, she said, “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is. You wanna talk about it?”

“I’m just tired.”

She sighed. “It’s never easy to watch when people finally piece it together that we’re not perfect. I told you it would happen, remember?”

She had, that day we had first trained together. “I remember,” I said quietly.

“You’re not happy with what happened in there, but as I told you: success is never absolute. The only surety is compromise. And this is just in regards with the team – I bet if you asked any of us right now, we’d all give you different estimates about how successful that meeting was. The Avengers are more fragmented than we like to pretend. But, I suppose, that’s how most families – the real families – are.”

“Tony told me during the interview that in this line of work, we couldn’t afford to always be direct. I’d said then that he and you all don’t sound like the sort of people who want something deceptive or dishonest. And I suppose that is still true but still, in a way, I felt like I was just proven wrong.”

“And so now the question remains,” she sat back and folded her arms, “how long till you decide that the compromises we make and the gambles we take aren’t worth it?”

How long till I figured for good that the Avengers were not the heroes I’d thought they were?

How long till I realised for real that Tony’s mentorship wasn’t worth my peace of mind?

How long till I decided once and for all that being infatuated with Loki wasn’t worth my inner conflict?

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Short chapter, but hope you liked it. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> 2\. There might not be an update next week. We'll see. 
> 
> 3\. I've also got some of those incorrect quotes memey things modeled after our very own Loki and Scandal, called Incorrect Scanki, on Tumblr. Do check it out/contribute to it!
> 
> 4\. Thank you everyone for 20k hits! I love you all <3


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